A poet, an introvert
She’s a silent girl;
Having no words
To personify her pains.
Rather scribbles and scratches
In her diary, with the
Beautiful alphabets
To vacant the chambers
Of her heart, not to rest-
But to welcome the new visitors
Again, approaching with the
Weapons of agony.
Wish, if the pen and the ink
Would have had the ability
To suck some of her trauma,
She could have welcomed
The new patients with a little smile.
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