A Mysterious Land Without People

A Mysterious  Land Without People

No one thinks such a devastating massacre
As if bedded on to spoil the spirit hereinafter;
Not to survive any longer in the meadow
For every movement in the level-headed rocks,
Life is a terrestrial zone of lively leaves,
Being dried in the further process of symbiotic organs.
The thematic concentration is a tone of passivity,
In the wake of mysterious chronicle events,
The miscreants  never hesitate  to shoot the innocent,
People on the streets are laden with separate solitary,
In the woodlands like the leaves dried not lining.
With humidity, moisture, and ice soaked as if
The dead elephant is ransacking everywhere in the hole.
Like a flock of sheep finding food for life
And death in the sense of making the earth restless
For behaving cruelly as long as they survive
For not being articulated as a beam of the usual sun
In the race of cloudy and eerie upon the lacklustre
As if being deadly and arctic like the polar bear.
The people on the race were not amused, but
Being shy and restless, searching for suitable means
To survive in a place without people.

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