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Poetry

Of Sickness

of moment so despair
a thing i learn about a crooked poetry
my face a sudden elastic string.

Of death
these moments stich a corollary upon my backbone,
stripes so painfully black.

an ache to put metaphors with,
Madness unleashed from the boundaries of my skull
red, uneven, scathed,

women in my room speak of pain more than the patients in the hospitals
a deep blue sapphire cotton pain
splitting throat.

The air wet and humid
of tears and sickness
a dead sky lies under my lids.

I remain quiet, numb, observing like a child.

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by my.valiant.soul

A published poet from India, and a constant seeker for the real truth. My works have been previously published in Visual Verse, Subterranean Blue Poetry, Mad Swirl, Spill words among various others. I write about mental health and my favorite activities include dancing, reading poetries, living between the nature.


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