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You sauntered toward the olive-brown guitar:

Your armoured sphere, you strum its strings;

Melodies in the room you scatter,

And how the air smells like spring;

You poured your heart out beyond a doubt,

Let me glance at your naked soul;

Swayed that if we start, you’d be devout,

To fill the void, make ourselves whole.

Walking the path of the beginning of the end

Just as I came closer I felt the pang,

Of being let down as you intend;

To smash my essence with a bang,

Had I known, it was all just a ruse;

I’d have saved myself from a thousand bruises!


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