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Thankful

Are you okay? Yes I am.. But I wasn't , As I responded to that, Because what else to say, When you aren't, Are you feeling good? Yes I am.. When I wasn't, But how will it help, If I responded for real, Do you need water? Yes I want.. But just shut down, The surrounding chatter, With infinite laughter, I couldn't bear, The noise, Inside me growing larger, Than my voice that was, Shaking my exterior poise, My daughter, Came closer.. As she held my, trembling hand, As she whispered, Mom, it will get better.. My partner, Looked at me, And wanted me to know.. It's okay, Not to be okay, Getting drunk, And throwing up.. Is all part of growing up, Till the part, Where you start loving, Just water again.. My mom and dad, Comforted me,  That although sad as it looks, Things aren't that bad.. As explained by the books, Relationships and people, Are the ones that make you stable, While everything else, Can topple,   Well, there will be loads of trouble, But more than that t

The Painted Flowers

Everyone was quiet...
One was shattered.
No one earns it right.
Faith was scattered.
Words were over-polite..
One had scars.
It started to pour in slight.
Eyes had drops tonight.
White came down..
Flowers for the crown.
Gathered every courage..
To meet the verbiage.
Hearts swelled with each other.
But never got further.
They would rather die..
Than lying to each other.
Though white in color…
They were always painted.
Though pure in valor.
They were portrayed as tainted.
Now the crowd doesn’t fight..
As one has lost her very right.
From her bag wide open..
She showers the painted flowers.
That gets washed off by rain..

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