Gratitude
Nasir Waden
Gratitude does not come quitely through the front door,
Not through love
Following a bit of fiformash,
Existence has become wind.
Like a stray dog, it wanders with doubt,
The grasshopper is sucking the sunlight.
I don't think gratitude belongs to those
Who have a thing called conscience
I have killed sense so gratitude is afraid to come to me.
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