Hope And Struggle
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A bird with a twig on the beak,
Seen flown, toward the sun,
Some said, Ah! It's the fun,
I said-
No it's the hope and struggle,
The process is going on,
Since the time immemorial,
One day, generation yet to come,
May make a nest,
Till the time,
Birds will fly,
This the desire instinct,
That keeps one alive
Let them try,
Think not,
Unto your work, run
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