e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

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Rotten Seeds Springs

I’m a man of my word
Beaten over the head
Stabbed with a sword

Knocked down,
Vilified and torn

Into audible pieces
Trash and useless fabrics
And for many many years,

I stayed stagnant
Demoralised at a spot.
Life’s hard, became a fact

On this ground I lay
In creed, all the way
Knowing that one faithful day

My cold feet and lifeless nerves
With that very few water drops;
Sprung shall be of the rotten seeds…

Then from flowers to fruits,
I shall rise above their roofs
Till then; I am, the rotten seeds.


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