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Sep 2020
Slavery, the devil is in me.
Sorrow, heart craves for another tomorrow.
The world won't know what it means.
No one can decipher this being.
The language of this heart, covered with a dark shroud.
Dead, pulled apart, it won't shout.
Thrown down the drain, discarded.
Beaten up, bleeding on the ground.
The red, flowing, cleansing those around.
Serving without dignity.

Bow you all, bow to this being.
Such is the beauty, imaginary.
Existing in the mind, reality can't see.
A face blank, remorse, flee.
A deer bitten by a lion, see.
This is pain, this is what makes me.
Written by
Gunnika Mehra  16/F/India
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