Rain sobs, hysterical woman.
Bleeding and lonely,
Forbidden by rule.
Rain sobs, love-lorn,
For loss of fulfilment,
On the surge.
Rain sobs, bursting ovum,
For unborn babies,
And forgotten needs.
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Evenings at the Indian Coffee House
In this middle age, I wonder how life has turned out to be, so different from the images that I had when someone asked me to ima...
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