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Courtesy: My birthday gift from a few dear friends

Yesterday, while walking,
I wrote some words in ink.
Some were bitter, harsh
Some rosy, lovely, pink.

Some warm and touching,
I poured from my heart.
Some reckless, careless,
Roughly scribbled, apart.

Some truth laden emotions,
Carefully weaved together.
Some shallow, unsettling,
Bound with a tether.

I sprayed my raw ideas.
Brewed them to unwind.
I laid some soft musings
Of a wandering mind.

I also sketched in ink
the faces that I met.
Wrote their names beneath
In case, I forget.

Last night, then, I slept,
Kept my pen aside.
Sleep flushed my writings
Left smudges behind.

Impressions of the nib
Stayed deep and dark.
Memories were tattered
Left was just the mark.

Deformations imbued
deeper inside me.
Shaping the face in mirror
That my eyes will see.

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