Still the richest

Page 1

STILL THE RICHEST Not a single cloth to camouflage my devastatingly tottering body; as I trespassed like a ghoulishly grotesque ghost; through the uncouthly chilly winds of vengefully freezing winter, Not a single penny in my brutally bedraggled pockets; as I insanely loitered like a barbaric lunatic; through the lanes of overwhelmingly stinking poverty; and depraving cowardice, Not a single sound in my satanically rotting throat; as I groped like a parsimoniously dumb rat; through the painstakingly debilitated corridors; of dolorous doom and deprivation, Not a single hair to envelop my penuriously gleaming scalp; as I became an unsurpassable mountain of deplorable ridicule for the rich and rustically impoverished; alternatively and alike, Not a single shade to entrench my hopelessly deadened facial contours; as I pathetically stumbled on every step; into a dungeon of ghastly depression and horrendous prejudice, Not a single blush encompassing my haplessly beleaguered cheeks; as I frigidly slithered like colorlessly asphyxiated water; through the deserts of sweltering solitude, Not a single jewel embellishing my capriciously dithering flesh; as I got inevitably spat upon; by even the most despicably nonchalant of pigs, Not a single smile encapsulating my unfathomably cracked and sleazy lips; as I fulminated into an unending volley of remorseful tears; even in the most vibrantly ecstatic moments of vivid life, Not a single fantasy in my lecherously manipulative brain; as I parasitically sucked whatever I could lay my hands upon; to holistically survive, Not a single line on my insidiously lackadaisical palms; as I maniacally groped without the slightest of direction; destiny and ambition; for centuries immemorial, Not a single twinkle in my treacherously withering eyes; as I invidiously sighted nothing but hideously commercial corruption; even in the most majestic land of the handsomely divine, Not a single muscle in my abominably delirious arms; as I got wholesomely pulverized by even the most minuscule ants; the instants that they nimbly brushed


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Still the richest by Nikhil Parekh - Issuu