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Poems,

My Pen

My pen might be my greatest asset.
It might be the reason for my present state of mind.
I’m not in my senses, I’m not out of it either.
This pen explains me; it explains my hike
It defines me; it’s my best friend
Look at me, eulogizing this lifeless inanimate
But it’s the little things that matter the most
Here I am, with this three-dimensionate
But it’s the little cracks that tear us apart.
Really, grateful to words I am
(22 March 2012)

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