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mysticmode
mysticmode
34/M/India I write when I write.
With the polar fire on; I can catch me onto the muse of bliss. And threads of words get slips; with no intention of showing my **** just to enjoy the moments’ chills. When it spirals downwards the stairways; Mother kinds me with lulls. Is it necessary that I need to do this fuss? Ain’t I became the normies lulz?! I just lit my wills, my mind thinks; Juices flowing on the paper has no more stirs. But I’ve seen this to care less, cuz I know it eventually hits.
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Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 3:46 AM UTC
Polar bliss
The path seeking I went is not what I want you to seek. You not be me; The walk of the walk truly belongs to the person whose walk is what the heart craves for. You not be me; For the senses and the experiences I taught you is just a mere mirror of mine bestowed upon you as a jewel for myself to find what is mine and not yours. You not be me; Find your path, walk the walk with love in your heart, that holy light will lit your journey of life for which is what we are here for. You better not be me;
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Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 2:43 PM UTC
You not be me