Seeing my devastation
And in utter despair, dejection and despendence,
Singing the songs of broken,
Which I suffered, but could not say it,
Just went on bearing the pains of love.
The heart broke it like the glass pieces
And while collecting, pricked it
And it bled too,
The heart used to beat abnormally
And it used to ache
But there was none to dress the bleeding wounds of love.
Viewing the red roses, playing with the innocent children,
Walking into the open,
I used to console the broken self of mine,
Putting the hand over the heart
I used to disperse the pains.

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