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Snigdha Banerjee May 2015
She lost her grip
Heard a voice so familiar, she tripped
Over the 1000 promises that lay on the floor
1000 and 1…there’s hardly room for more
And everyone seems to know better
Everyone seems to understand so much…but forget her
Misplace the fact that she’s well aware
She knows every line, can count every hair
She’s a master at the game
And losing, no matter how many times done, is always the same
What if for once…she’s done with the romance
The kindness
What if for once…she just doesn’t want to dance
And would prefer to just sink into the darkness that his her room
Be that one rare flower that through adversity did bloom
The rare blossom that had no need for love…no need for sun
A trend in the making…a grand story is to come
From this porcelain masked mess
The infamous damsel in distress
A princess who traded in her dress
And gave no more attention to love, but sought something less
Something less likely to promise something more
For she had already 1000 on the floor
Why this is like this !
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