Verse.

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I sat to write a verse,
With a watery cloth over my eyes,
Meekly It fell,
Like those of many,
From sources duped to believe,
What they see.
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Sowing feelings was never easy,
But harvesting was even more onerous.
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Adulated verses,
Are absolute in themselves.
An ocean of feelings,
In them,
Full of things one can’t ascertain.
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