It was supposed to heal me
The way, calmly, it feel me.
The soul drenched in pain,
Waiting for those tears to rain.
But wait, was it all planned !
Or was it the fate, that it rained.
Beneath all these lies and the cries
The mind knows what it gained.
Chaos, the term justified that period,
Resembling wierd scrutinys in a myriad.
Healing was a mirage, futile to explain,
And again, the pen penned the pain.
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