Another Blindsong
The malady named city was never a concern of geology
Only the ground two feet can seize
The infectious ailing-senses stood upon
Not to regard anyone, is the city we heed
So could move the city, as if a moving indicant
Information concealed, so could division be eminent
Adroit verse is the level where I put the lid
On the pan of feelings
The city said in apathetic cry
Only where sturdy wills die
poem by Tanvir Ratul
Added by Poetry Lover
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