A Poem

 I have seen a man,

his arms are heavy,

knees tired..

he might be breadwinner.

I have seen a man,

a man with rugged boots,

he stinks corpses,

with scars in his palms,

his lame leg

he might be a warhero.

The man is marely a man

but decoy of this hunt.

this endless hunt is a timer;

this timer might be all he has,

yet, he continious by tireless hussle.

PS. Was trying to draft a poem, don't know if it even carry a sense


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