I am all alone here but,
Not looking for the salvation
Those crumpled wet pillows,
Has soaked so many stories.
Shaved body and the perfect curves,
Are not the luxury for me.
Written, stroked words again & again,
There is disgust piled up in me.
Tired and unknown to self,
My soul is itching inside.
Everything is transient here,
So should be my anxiety.
I don’t know about the end,
Just going to put my pen down.
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