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And I will never know for real, If she was a cheater surreal. She had jinxed various boys, Even I was one of her toys. Crying over spilt milk is foolish, I should take her as a lesson. Hating does not make any sense, She never mended her ways. She cheated me or she cheated me not, It was always a perplexing mystery. Am I lucky or unlucky – this I know not And surely The Mystery Continues.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
The Mystery Continues
And I will never know for real, If she was a cheater surreal. She had jinxed various boys, Even I was one of her toys. Crying over spilt milk is foolish, I should take her as a lesson. Hating does not make any sense, She never mended her ways. She cheated me or she cheated me not, It was always a perplexing mystery. Am I lucky or unlucky – this I know not And surely The Mystery Continues.
Probably I am lucky because if she had cheated on me after marriage, I would have rather killed myself for her sin. HP Poem #1198 ©Atul Kaushal
Atul
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35/M/Indian
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
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