By Agrima Arya
Remorsing my past has always been grueling,
Still for you I bellicose my brain,
Never knowing why I was courageous,
Never knowing if I were someone else.
I always demise in grief even if I foresee,
I wasn’t always like this but experiences made me,
I feel my mind is roaring,
Past coming to my eyes,
Whatchu gonna do about it,
If leaving makes you a child.
I think it’s time to vamoose
As that’s what new youth really do,
Is it a custom to leave someone
Before they’d the chance to sew?
Like the fragrance of the wind turns, the youth will someday,
Maybe you will remember it, expecting he’s still waiting at the bay,
You try to seam now but the twinge is too deep,
Your proxy roll-in long ago and the yesteryear rehearse.
By Agrima Arya
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