it seems like writing has lost its cure
though words are formed
pain remains at the very core
like a million arrows had shot right through me
there embedded in my heart permanently
destroying branches of veins and arteries
and my wounded soul, it bleeds
only through my eyes…
only through my eyes…
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
I was here…
I have been here all along…
But you’ve never...
Never tried to know me
So why only now?
Why the sudden interest?
Isn’t it all…
A little too late?
...to realise what you've been missing only after you've lost it...
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