Saturday, January 9, 2010

Lots of Lost Looks


Silence is a deathly life

The looks kill barbaric than words.

How can the scourge be so calm,

And whip off the orb with the dulcet swords?

Expressions count the least,

when impressions matter the most.

You bury your heart six feet under,

And leave the tombstone unepitaphed.

The world sees the looks,

But the looks will cease the world.

You never enter the good books,

when books also look like goods.

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