The lone figure, and his shadow on ground
trembling and shivering,in the form of a round
blood oozing out of his fresh wounds
he stands there, no one's around
Unmasked he stands with bruises and cuts
the knees and sinews coloured with blood
his existence was torn and tattered
which made every hope shattered
trivial is not the journey he made
he wrecked his foot and scratched his head
till his lips did not utter
and his eyes did not open like a shutter
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