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Aug 2014
Lost to the chase, her hands bear the trade
Talking to walls, the closest to a conversation she's ever been in.
That's what this life presents,
Choices we cannot guarantee, to a crown of fallacies.
She was broken even before she could mend her shame
Her arms told stories where blades met to caress and tear.
Because its a broken world, broken records of life lie in the shade
She could swim against tides, she owned the waters she said,
Only to be found dead in a pool full of her own blood.
Meenu Syriac
Written by
Meenu Syriac  India
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