Smoke Of Existence
Healing tounches in the midnight of noises
Formless form in my mind digging the idiosyncratic shouts coming out from the throat of yesterday
You are a loser
You are a nonsmoker of smoked hope
Nobody can run away from the hole of surpressed realities
Only..................hopped cracked tops without reasoned truths
This is what people called 'Screamed silence'
poem by Nyein Way
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