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I do not write anything divine,
It is only the best I can do.
I know a little bit about me-
But feel it is the only thing I ever knew.

I have been told things I can’t and those I should,
Have always appeared strange to few-
But my will has always been good.

Beauty is not in the words but what they really mean.
I have tried a thousand lines-
Some from the heart and some from the dreams I have seen.

These lines are not for one but for few.
Souls who were stranger to me once,
But soon were a part of me as I grew.

I hope I am not writing strange
Or the words- no one knows.
Beauty is not in the words I told-
It is in the mirror it holds.

The day has been good till now
And I write what I want to say out loud-
“Some words can’t be on the lips,
But somehow they find their way out”.

I have given up writing long time, but on the urge of a friend, tried one more time. My thoughts were constantly shaky from one place to another, thus not giving the compostion a particular theme.

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