It all started long back but didn't stay much longer.
My world too got colours, and I was sliding down the rainbows.
I was counting my ages in her.
My lungs inflated with felicity.
I regretted calling others crazy because now I was one of them.
My own demons stole my sorrows and gave back my jovial life.
But my own roots were infected.
My name was safest in her mouth, but she spits it out.
Those familiar voices turned out to be the scariest sounds.
I was doomed in my own space waiting to get everything numb.
I counted my wounds, but they weren't the one to be healed.
Why it always happens to me, I wonder for a while?
Why always I suffer this bad?
In the end, I don't even care.
Why?
Do you care?
That's why!
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