Wandering in the aisle of miseries, Beneath the dark clouds of loneliness. Like the trees robbed of their leaves, I stood aghast with woes and grief. Now, these insults, backstabbing act as charms. I embrace them with welcoming arms. Mistaken by people as a maniac, But no one noticed the reason, behind those spooky laughter. Those failures I still ponder. As a sinister it enters like a thief, Now, these wounds seems like a gift.
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