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Scratching made artistic
Every day I lean straight on the wall,
And start scratching it just above my head’s buoyancy;
As always I do with expectations.
In a manner, to note how fast I am growing tall
With an instigation to stop.
Once I rose joyously
To see the leveling of it today to be the same as the previous day.
Suddenly I lit myself and shun brightly,
For the change that favored me.
My selfish thing urged its desire forcingly on it to remain saddled up.
Next day was that…
Where I gave room for my gloom
This time I scratched above the previous scratching
I was shattered to notice it.
Then somebody giggled,
“If you have done this on your preserved brain
You would have assimilated
With perpetual happiness which is missing in you now.”
I tried that too…
It engulfed its vision latter
I found myself out of grey shade
I knew, I saw nothing unusual
Rather I witnessed a different wavelength in my thoughts
And I stood under the limelight
I wanted to prance proud In front of you
To settle contrary to your giggle
But you slammed me once again.
This time you asked,
“If It was not me, how well would you have budged to the path of this mirth?”
Everything now aligned right in my row.
I made my utterance meekly,
“I did not find the happiness but I made my blurred vision clear to see the same.
And the way along I saw you”
At the same, I yearned to know where you were always found
as I wanted to stay away from odds like this forever.
There you stand!
To settle contrary attempts and deluges of life.
For scraping my thing in etiquette ever.
And that’s human nature.
obviously, I was too not exceptional.
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