I, by the day, swallow
the words I should say
Later at nights, I find them
inside me struggling
queuing up for attention
memories fighting emotions elbowing
songs playing in the background
and I emerge a hero every single time
But at next, I again keep mum
holding back my words,
chewing, swallowing
pitying myself
for I learn
I'd only ever have the courage
to write and hold together
than to have the appetite
to speak up and break
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