I am a sound today,
an inaudible gentle drop of a midsummer dream.
Look,
I have a scarred arm,
degenerated now,
An ear so small,
obnoxious ways of survival.
I evolve each day, still melting on toes.
Funeral baths peeling my cold skin.
There is abnormality happening on Thursdays,
and a prayer going on inside my head on Sundays.
I know too much on Mondays and
I become a sinner on Saturdays.
Look, I may slip monthly,
slipping almost like a surreal fall
with patches and band-aids sewedΒ to the body.
I fail to be a silver moon
A hollow void that sits on my lap,
nonchalantly bleeding songs of despair.
I am all at once,
an elastic curve of black fragility.
I fail at being the silver moon- beautiful
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Gorgeous, Devika.
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Thank you so much.
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wow – this is amazing
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Your blogs possess unimaginable amounts of depth. A beautiful write-up.
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Thankyou!!
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I ain’t saying nothing!
you already herd everything
ππππππππππ
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Oh these lines I can read again and again.
A hollow void that sits on my lap,
nonchalantly bleeding songs of despair.
I am all at once,
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Kind..kind!
Thanks a ton Megha.
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My pleasure D
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This is really nice wow
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Thank you!
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‘I know too much on Mondays and
I become a sinner on Saturdays.’ I could relate to that
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Right no? Thanks!!
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Beautiful piece
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Thanks
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