This Angular Mohabbat
Fashioned out
of old wives tales
Of failed
romances, dead Mahiwals and broken hearts
A tapestry
of faded old songs.
Their meaning
now buried under the years
Shadowed by
the daily routine, This Angular Mohabbat
So black
and white like sacred pianos of Time
Voice garbled
by the sadness of being alive,
An orchestra
of Beatle look-alikes
Our madness
now accentuated by the rising sun
All those
people we talked to now dead
Poets that
no longer kill, disappearing along their own trials
Crying out
Khatam-Shud,
Khatam-Shud
Khatam-Shud,
Khatam-Shud
Khatam-Shud,
Khatam-Shud
--
Tz
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