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I wonder if I could ever
For a while in a lifetime
May confront myself
For sure, the real one…


The one who loves
But betrays and baffles too
The one who breaths, but
Under myriad layers of myth,


Beneath the sorrow and grief,
desperation and desires
And of burning hatred
Dissembling thousands of tears,


Tears of glee and agony
rushing through the bluish vein
Flowing as brine water
Counted as nothing but a drop,


Drop of epiphany of the moment
Whether dripping from eyes
Or bleeding out of a heart
Perpetually telling a tale though,


Telling what I never dared to
Confessing what I couldn’t ever
That I am not the one standing
Across the mirror to my eyes,


But rather someone, who is
Unknown not only to you but
To me as well…Or am I the one
who was never called out ever…

Image credit: pottery barn

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Smriti Srivastava
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