Friday, July 6, 2007


Leave me to my own peace
A beguiled idealist,
Of a human instinct to procreate.

We are a manifestation of God’s propagation.
Of lust and shallow sentimentality,
There is nothing that bonds us.

I expect you to do things that I don’t,
We embody nothing higher,
No embellished claims.

Why do we gull ourselves in lascivious pretence?

That we offer to this time,
At least a memorable toast,
Of love and feeling never lent afore.
Remya Lara

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