It Asked
A Anjandev Roy
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Everyone was standing in the long queue,
They were anxiously waiting for justice,
One by one they got it,
Only my excellent poetry did not get it.
Pain and frustration suffused my lovely poesy,
With tears in its eyes,
My beloved poetry asked its fate agonizingly,
"Why am I deprived of justice? "
Someone frowned it from the dark corner and said,
"Oh fool! great thing can not get justice
In the cruel air of injustice."
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