The scam Artist

Here is the paradise living among the parasite,

the blood drawn from the veins is let go,

for a life on the shelf with empty newspapers,

and their tidings which consult the journalist,

as blood drawn from the citizens while netizens,

decided what’s in a hurry for charms,

There was once love sucked by breathing the,

lover sharing all that was in the life of a periodical,

dead bent upon setting the score with the artist,

who in a haste drew the copy of sports captain,

as lame, who wouldn’t come at all for the journey,

of a reporter.

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