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Mar 2020
Poetry, a language that few speak,
Poetry, when unexpressed was received,
Poetry, in solitude akin in crowd..
Poetry, a wandering soul's retreat !
Words, my saviour in every respite..
Words, the lifeboat when my ship capsized,
Words, that conjoin all mindful there are,
In words, I bid adieu amidst this subtle midnight !
Zhavaed Haemaed
Written by
Zhavaed Haemaed  28/M/India
(28/M/India)   
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