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Death Out Of Fame
I made a death out of fame,
Food became the emblem;
Once the priest forbade the code,
I helped the message into the throat.
We can wear a real heaven on this day,
A clear work has been addressed to us,
The real haunting from a ghost arrived.
Inside, the reality of the stamping of feet
Pressures the toes and feet.
The house so outlandish is to feed
And more toes shall be trod upon by the weak.
poem
by
Naveed Akram
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