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Poetry is a song
Of words
Striking a chord
Of gentleness
For harmony
In the soul
Words of pain
Suffered within
And birthing
The blues
Rhythmic  words
To jazz up
The day
And loving words
For soul
Poetry begins with
A song in
Your heart and
A pen in
Your hand
Sometimes,I feel,my mind, is my greatest enemy...

For in a place full of haunting trees and wild animals...
It imagines for me a garden of Eden where I can thrive in peace...!

How often my mind deceives me into thinking that I am loved in return...
Even when the pain and agony of unrequited feelings knocks at my door...
Like a good old friend...!

The remnants of lost friendships gather like thunder clouds in the sky...
Yet my mind consoles me with a lie that it will not rain...!

But then, I realise that I have survived the greatest tragedies of life by letting the mind cover the rusty tracks of reality...

I wonder if my mind hadn't lied I would have fallen into an abyss never to return...

My hopes would have never got time to build up if I had not taken the shoulders of a lie to lean for a while...

I often ask my mind about it... Only to get one answer back...
That to live with the truth forever... You will have to first cope with a lie!
Most realisations come at a time when you never expect it to... This was something that suddenly popped into my mind and I wrote it... Hope you all could relate...
Thank you so much, for reading this ❤
Across the canyons and rivers
Of your existence
Past the heartbeats suspended
The nights stretched out
Into insufferable dawns
The etchings that trace out the scars
Of what left you what you are
All those faces and hearts
That you were
Crossing those landscapes
Of love twisted into shapes
That bound your heart
Unable to breath
Or see

In cavernous darkness
The needle finds its way
Through the fibers stretched out from birth
Until
That falling crumbled moment
Pushing in a temporary evisceration of a reality
Arrogated by the coldness
Of what human does to human
Torn shreds of something as simple and pure
As love
But, as the needle withdraws
Its tennicles and barbs
Pull along with it
Your soul

Out of cavernous darkness
Gathering up self
Pushing back the days
Pulling in the light
The fragments lay across my landscape
Perhaps they were the sculptures tools
Shaping me as I am today
It matters not
It is only the light
That matters now....
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