The
plot in the game
The
twists and turns it behaves
The
darkness and brightness
The
missing words in graffiti
The
painted walls of conflicts
The
minds try to find its way
Maybe
there is no truth in it
It
is a game politicians play
The
whisles blow
The
wind lashing it along
Bending
branches and leaves
Pulling
down erected signs
The
crushing of dissatisfaction
Or
is it fear hitting the mind?
Crumbling
blocks on porous ground
The
corrupted officials and politicians run
The
sound of bugle
Whistling
in the air of wind
The
changing doors
The
patterns will come
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