THE BEAST
By Kazi Akber
His throat is dry with fear. The light
Continues to tease him, he waits for the
Permissive green but it does not
Come; the night is cold. So are the
Buildings around him. From among the
Grave-like structures the beast shows
his face. Cold, numb and fast. It's too
late now. He knows what he wants.
It's hard not to know; we reap the
Poverty that we sow
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