how many stories
or secrets
do you hold
in each line?
Centuries turn
without asking you
how and why
you felt what you did
and what would you like
to be carried
into the future?
Does each line
yearn to be heard
or drive you
to etch your own lines
on the canvas of time?
unheard
unseen
ignored
Just as the last line..

Lovely poem.
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Thank you so much!
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The lament of writers everywhere, Reena…
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True 😂 Thank you so much!
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💕
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A profound poem
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Thank you so much!
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You’re most welcome
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