Beat - Poem By Laila Ali Haid
My car drove on the shores of adjusting bulbs and crafts
A hatred on the day of plenty overcame the pulpit and he did cry
The crushing velvet on the door mantle and the hired hope
Filled with regeneration and renegade of pious lies and just matters
In my time I keep the solitude of frames
The raconteurs aspirations on the placard
An emblem, so a façade
So here a winter
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