I seemed to have missed the beats of time
That strikes the chords of my existence
An existence, which looks with hope
To the poetry in the tiny anklets of my feet
Those tiny bells in which I put a little life
Like a mother smothering it with kisses
And feeding it with the pure drink of my emotions
Where have they left me for?
Have they found a better being?
Or have they grown into a wayward adult
Where have I lost my touch with them?
Why can’t it merge with me and render me richer than ever?
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