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She who sells oranges-poem by m k harikumar

She came down
to a super-specialty street
to sell oranges.

The street kids who were sate
with too much oranges
had her skinned like an orange.

And they even had her dress off her
Just for the orange colour.
Without smelling or feeling it
They wrapped her face
With that yellow drape.

And for the red, the kids
went for her inner wears.
Still not feeling satiated
They exerted her breasts
and bled them out to their fill.

Who ever wasn’t able to scribble in
What all letters of their personal prowess
Right on her tongue!!!!
At last the sour and bitter
she spate out, alas,
did not have any colour.

Out of their dealings of alphabets,
Beguiling all the other colours,
she somehow learnt a thing or two.

It is with a little primitive fear
and anxiety that she learnt those scripts of the ancient tribes

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