You must thank your Christ,
For not making me write.
Yes, I was stubbed and smoothered,
By and large withered.
He had put me calm,
And stopped my writing palm.
Or else, or else, or else,
My heartless lady, or else.
I would have spilled,
The countless venting.
I would have written,
The dirtiest language ever printed.
It was not a momentary emotion,
Evoked in a temporary motion.
It is evident in the vault,
That I have kept myself cold.
For the heart has burnt a lot,
And the eyes have cried a lot.
I did shed my blood within,
For I have loved you from within.
Maybe your love has the richness,
Maybe for you loved me once.
For that once you attempted once,
I, with no clue surrender to your Christ.
Yes, I have lost the battle,
But not my love for you.
Yes, you have won,
But unfortunately we are not one.
Dedicated to the Mystery Girl.
Thala Abhimanyu Kumar
Dated: 25/08/2019
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