A poetry on new generation


style

The Style
********
If our ugliness is our style,
The world is free to be stylish.
Climate change,
The style of the world.
Here Mother Nature becomes father;
The venom once she kept hidden,
It was hidden in her heart;
We are the little child,
The lusty creatures.
All our perish is the cause of disobey.
A day begins at dawn and goes on to evening;
The stars smiles at night.
We are too busy to observe them,
Busy in the busy world.
The world we run faster.
Every thing is right,
Only our ugliness is our style,
The style to enjoy little,
The style to destroy much.
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Poetry by mriduldas99
Read 231 times
Written on 2007-03-29 at 20:20

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