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The unsung song
My friend forced me to write a song for him
And he said; ' I'll take a guitar and a flute only.'
I write but who knows whether he accepts or not?
Oil and water in a jar
I mixed together until my fingers get burned.
Yes it's mixed but not for a long.
Gradually it's segregated like the body and soul.
Though we are one,
One day we separate each other
And he who knows the story further?
poem
by
Nimal Dunuhinga
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