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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

Separation

A hole in her frock..
What if people mock.
She refused to become the laughing stock.
Coming from a hole..
Dark like the charcoal.
Where spirits had burnt..
Squeamished but she learnt.
An unknown path..
She kept walking towards.
As no one is going to follow..
Looking out for her sorrow.
Whatever she sees..
Will let her be.
And whatever she does..
Has to eventually agree.
As hands get annoying..
Faces start lying.
She looks around to find..
The ones who were there..
Are not even trying.
Is she allowed to be scared ?
Stuffs until she is layered.
Sometimes she outruns..
Sometimes she gets caught.
Sometimes she hides behind walls that run paper thin.
Noises reaching out to her..
Unavoidably failing to stir..
As loss makes the murmur.
Longing for the road..
Which is back in.
What if she decides ..
And gets trapped in.
With no one but the windows..
Starting at her.
While she wonders..
Is someone out there still looking ?

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