Beyond dead endA Poem by moog-drikaDriving through the outskirt of creed, granted me a voluble license. With drunkard headlights, my pavement seemed to stumble. Beneath the green signal, avenue sees- a refined riot breaking out, a riot of birthday suit. Pushing me to the amber signal, is nothing but a cordial conspiracy. Wide eyed traffic rules didn’t speak. The horns didn’t speak either. All the blinks of renaissance were confident. While the engines corrupted themselves. Being a stone deaf, I still was hearing the laugh of it, The laugh of signal turning into red. © 2019 moog-drikaFeatured Review
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13 Reviews Added on December 29, 2018 Last Updated on February 7, 2019 Authormoog-drikaAboutHey this is Mugdha, a thought poker, a life giver of words. I'm mostly into dark poetry and have a great appetite for reviving inanimate souls. I think they love me for this gesture but that's my pa.. more..Writing
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