I hear whistling from silent graves. I give attention to it, I could hear my very heart beat. And the ground did itch my feet. I felt the winds with hands tugging in my flesh, I felt been dragged away to that hungry tomb.
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Fear is a bunch of sinister objects without substance that impartS great fright in people, on standing up to it, we usually find it to be inconsequential. A well articulated poem penned well to capture the essence of the piece. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.