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What September

Ceaselessly,
the September moon
was sending poems
in quick succession.

Life had come to a grinding halt.

The walls,
wait to end the race of
stings. The heat was
a dirty yellow.

You will witness the fall of a titan.

The genome of red
wine grape was
similar to a forgotten
verse, after the?

rage of ageing cells of a sage.
Satish written by

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