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Nov 2017
With ink in my weapon, I sit to fire my emotions,
Raw and authentic, some dispersed and many condensed ,
You read my work and exclaim,
It was the poet who was the sailor in this tidal sea,
It was the poet who brought snowfall in the blazing sun,
It was the poet who met the doom in life ,
And you say , I am a poet and I am born to write !
But in the crooked silent corner of suppressed blazing flames,
When my inks get dry and pages do cry,
I exclaim, " I am a poet and I struggle"!
Ankit Kumar Upadhyay
Written by
Ankit Kumar Upadhyay  18/M/India
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