|Unlike_You|
'I'll carry on without y'r hand,
fall along with slipping sand;
Crushed underneath y'r feet,
Mouthful words do retreat;
As if reflecting me face,
A potter's aroused vase
With fine & round curves
As if stricken nerves
My words smell disgrace
Without rhyming beauty & face
I'll carry on without such shine,
As an abiding-stain benign'
©Zahid Mushtaq
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