your poems hurt as much as my silence
they speak the untruth of my un-being
and i seek a canvas to paint my guilt
like meaningless noises perforated
through dilemmas of words
but how often did i played with the secrets
thinking them to be sources of my indignation
may be towards what i was fed to believe
then, your poems…
one after another
even after i have buried my sonorous claims
your poems...
one after another
continue to exonerate the untruth that have lived with me
like my own affirmation on your so called truths
10 SEC READ The gift of insults
2 years ago
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