Its the feeling undying
The kindness that was not rough
The child in the element, the issue
And the fog of spitting emotions
Fraught in the maze of hate
The niceness of your lies
Was not the catch in the technical story
The frame of love glimmered aching
For the sensation of degraded happenstances
I once caught a flower so poor
I tucked it it into the waters
The land I emerged on was not sweet
The lie was greater than the chide
- By Laila Ali Haid
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