Random Thoughts

 Everything is poetry 

Until it isn't

It's all earth to roses

and people to proses

Often forgetting the thorns

That once survived

What's burnt can't be revived 

What's alive can never die

A soul that breathes underneath

Even if we deny

It's neither about forgetting 

nor to keep dwelling

Just acclimitizing

To a land that was once owned

Now it has a time i.e. hesisantly loaned.

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