I only find exclusive ways
To ingrain what is at odds
Like boards and hoardings
In absence of passengers
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Still hung in all the glory
Delivering the message, in the absence
Never waiting for any presence
As words gets ingrained slowly, my
Working is like the crimson tide
That makes the sea-farers wait, on the bank
Before embarking the journey into the vastness of the sea
I desire the adherence of inclusivity, seen on the bank
Before it is heard –that into the sea, I have sank.
