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Writer's pictureAvipsha Ban

Not a peculiar tail

Her yesterday is a blank page to her memory 

And her today is a virtue of bliss

Reiteration of her own heavenly body

She stood beyond her own story 

Lounging in the cyclical routine of tranquillity

She is a queen of her tailored ontology 


Societal question mark to the dazzling authenticity 

Not a usual spoon to feed

Not a usual tone to speak 

Is she ideally a slice of our expired dessert? 

Is she impeccable to the crumbling domain?

A dotted mark to her every interval 


Jumbling up her benevolence in the virtue of bliss 

Cluttering down her nobility in the solitary peace

squalid gaze hurling the tainted haze 

Repulsed thrust , wrecking the pure 

She gleams to her tears squinching her uncharted fears 

She illuminates her tone rushing her deviated faults 


Just a injury, not to my body, but the convulsions there to worry 

Just a twinge, not a unique spirit, but the inherited disruptions as the uneasy

Just a affliction, probably to my physique but not the pulse like all the folks

Just a bruise I’d say, probably to my unconventional architecture but not the haemoglobin like yours

I am not a bizarre tail to this existence, I have a remarkable trait 

Correspondence not beyond or above, I am a equality to reframe

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