There are thousand scars engraved on my body,
And a million more on my soul,
There is agony flowing in my veins,
Don't know how many secrets waiting to surpass threshold.
To all the words that travel their way to throat,
But are blocked from escaping the lips,
To the endless nerves that muster up the strength,
And try in vain to let that is inside to be tipped.
For there are several pages of my book,
That remain unvisited and obsoletely barren,
Or maybe just depletion of some words,
That will fetch a meaning to my story; God knows when.
In the midst of all the shades of pinks and blues,
And the people I am surrounded with; their hues,
In the midst of the gained few and lost more than few friends,
I long to give my wandering supposedly a happy end.
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