Peculiar Habit of Mind-machine
Masudul Hoq
Mind gets broken towards hard days
Companion of mild sun have
climbed up to the antenna of
Popularity being filled up.
We know "dark" as dead
Then again no swallow of light
To the far, iced shadow of the pine forest
Being festive with the west-going smoke
I, involved with peculiar habit
of my mind-machine
I am nowhere!
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