Alone I was
So I am again
Gardens full of roses
Which...of course, signed love.
'Fairest among women, she is.'
I used to tell myself then.
And the lone sigh now,
From the deepest of heart.
Faces behind the face
Which I know.
Is there 'love' or 'liking'
In the world of dejection
And treachery,
I ask myself.
Whole night rains...
Outside, or the eyes?
And then I got something
Precious; you can say.
My diary...with those lines
on the first page.
'A writer's life is yours
Whoever comes your way
Writings do not change
Writers do not change
Love doesn't change.'
-'07
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