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The universe makes random jokes 
Like, to know me is a curse 
My personalities make it worse.

The introvert in me is ugly painted with gloomy clouds, stalking demons in the alley loves to mourn as a firstborn sick With numb eyes flick,
tears don't exist anymore.

The extrovert in me is silly painted with colours people never been seen, his smile is flawless and always wander around clueless about why he smiles.

The **** in me is a song or people like to call it wrong, a yearlong gong he writes 'lol' in people's wall with a fluffy cloud inside his brain, 
it reads tetrahydrocannabinol, 
notorious for his vocabulary,
can **** with an epistolary.

The Dib is a broken rib, spoon-feed bib 
He writes out of syllabus with sketchy nib,
runs in a solo trip his life says 'rofl'.

A introspect.
When time slows down its pace,
When sleep comes to all in daze,
When night brings the quietest phase,
I will be breathing after the long chase

Maybe it was a day of losses,
That only drained my soul to the core,
Maybe it was a day of praises,
That I want to relive more and more

No Matter if it's to regret or relive,
This night too will crawl to next dawn,
No matter if I'm thrilled or threatened,
This night too will ease all woes
This is the stream of thoughts of my night time during which I heal, strengthen and boost my energy for the next day

— The End —