Young Man- By Purusha Shirvani
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He walks into the room.
Disheveled hair, curly, black and brilliant,
Glasses sliding down his nose,
Reaching down,
to push them up again
Walking-
hesitant, towards
The center, between the chairs
Pausing and looking around discretely,
Trying to hold his head high,
Back straight, feet parallel, just
Like his father had told him
Heart beating
A thousand times a second
Towards the light,
Sure of his fate
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