I
needed another rape or a gun attack
To
complete the canvas.
But
the brushes are busy painting
Something
else that sells.
No,
but this is the hot topic of hypocrites
That
pushes the limits of hallagulla.
Even
with my poor communication skills
I
tried to convince,
Like
the salesman who visited me one afternoon
When
I was beginning to smoke my hookah
I
didn’t even see what eureka
Of
a product he was carrying
He
might have brought a dead victim
But
I didn’t check with him
He’d
been trained to defend his deed
Much
like those attackers planting the seed
Of
deaths, of charcoaled breaths.
Alas!
I knew I wouldn’t have to wait too long
To
complete my canvas.
A
rectangular page divided in two parts
The
sky embracing the hills,
The
meadow displaying the arts.
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