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At times, I write poetry
not for the sake of writing
but to feel free

To let out repressed emotions,
that stare at me blankly
that ask me questions....
to which, I don't know the answers

And when I do... I hide it
I hide it in a medley of words
Because, answers are scary
scarier than the questions themselves

So, at times, I write poetry
because spilled ink on paper
gives me the light to see
Trust may corrode or rust
Coat it with infinite faith
Birds on the wire line
In a poetry session sweet
Perched one feet apart

The weather is fine
The trees have got a nice Soldier cut
The sun shines through the mesh of leafless branches
The balmy breeze and the sunshine
allure me for a walk


— The End —