Traces of insanities haunt the very soul of mine
Inside out I’m drained by the covered plastic smiles
What an utter mess I’ve made of my significance
Yet for a love I’m unworthy of still lavished upon.
How much more will they imbibe before I’m empty?
Frightened by the fact of no hands I could hold on
Losing my total self with that thwart senseless acts.
Arraigned for an offence of emptiness finally raised.
For “I” and “It” is a mere margin different of a “t”
Beyond words spoken what truly holds the heart?
For just a little portion of dedication so difficult to
Laboring in sustaining from the shattering of frailty
Yet does all this given room for understanding at all?
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