THE FEVER.

I know you far well.
I know from the south
Or from the west per se.
You may know me.
Oh…! yes.
Certainly from a source.
My head on head irks me.
I am far beyond the truth in time.
For a time past, I did sleep not.
The ink in me is burning, burning for the stance of time.
Maybe per se, the burning is more the ink.
The ink of my blue blood now turns pale.
For the boot of my book is so lukewarm to work me.
I need you and you need me.
Because I in me is a person of fate.
Since my love for slim milk began.
My lips have never run dry.
The water of wukamimi has been solidified.
The die-hard core is dawn.
Because my head which was once divided has become one.
In fairness I disknown.
The beauty is petty of our time.
A demigod none.
Two within one.
My beauty of the audio mixer.
I remain an entity.
A god being of his own.
A soul of his own.
In all, I abide in them.
For, I have said so.

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TRUTHFUL DEEDS.

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A HALF- COMPLETE-PREGNANCY.

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