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To a Friend


Uzma Sadaf

There are the few line on my hand,
Which have come to my share,
I thought that you have been forgotten,
But at the bottom of my mind,
Under the layers of many curtains,
Your name is still hidden,
I made a thorough search,
But these curtains have stuck,
Like the flakes of cotton,
To my blood,
If I separate these flakes,
My mind begins to bleed.
The bloods of wounds begins to flow,
From my eyes and all the pictures,
Are coloured with blood,
Then I canít remember anything.
I canít think of anything,
A constant agony is trampling my heart,
And the realization that you are not there,
My friend you are not there.

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