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Poetic mind

Maybe I was never as good as I thought of myself to be
And maybe
now I am learning to accept
myself with the imperfections
and all the scars of time
Because realisation hit me
Just like a thunderbolt
That Not only am I but
Infact we all are
Child of silent wars,
and hidden sorrow
And something tells me
That we, a broken piece of poetry
Which needs to be recited
with the chimes
without rhymes
Are Just like a soft summer rain on skin
Which disavow the emptiness
Without warning
Like a magic!


Travelling on the way to somewhere I belong😉

4 thoughts on “Poetic mind

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