Dear Lord
thought to write you a letter long
but you know it all...
where I rose
and
how I did fall...
Now that you rest
your palm on my breast...
want to play ...
Your confidante!
No...
there's no pride in it...
only give me a humble treat...
give me and all just a space
to put all worries to perfect rest...
and
provide us with whitest dress...
[this is written in response to an article published today in The Statesman by Uddipana Goswami called 'why I married a wife beater?'
Those who are interested can go through the news. Here's the link:
http://m.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.thestatesman.net%2Findex.php%3Foption%3Dcom_content%26view%3Darticle%26id%3D452889%26catid%3D44&h=DAQFHSi5f&s=1 ]
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