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Not The God

A fathomless abyss,
you feel the power of wordless going.

Sperms leave,
when you smell your own blood.

The roasted pig,
or degenerating rhyme.

What would be your pick;
the dopamine?
The serotonin,
the medulla?

The radar will not follow you.
You are alone.
A tiny dot moving on the screen of life.

The morality was at risk,
with no window.
Satish written by

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