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  • Writer's picturevarsha alimchandani

Just keep repainting the wall


Yes I am messed up

if that's the word you get

going back to puzzled thoughts

same traumas

same uncertainty

same habits

same insecurities

passing by years and years

in anxiety of then tomorrows

tomorrows gone already

besmearing me at midnights

what do I look for


having a home?



assurance? comfort?

I had it

some of it

all of it

more than enough of it

yet I was always empty

what do these happy people got,

that I am never going to get?

what's inside,

that even death couldn't conquer?

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