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Poetries
Poetries aren't intended,
But poured from heart.
When the pain runs out of space,
When a little too much the heart aches.
Words cliched, Fresh yet the pain,
Tears flow through ink, when eyes aren't the way,
When the actual one fails...
But poured from heart.
When the pain runs out of space,
When a little too much the heart aches.
Words cliched, Fresh yet the pain,
Tears flow through ink, when eyes aren't the way,
When the actual one fails...
