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Sep 7, 2011


Through the curtain of the smiles
And the veil of unperturbed joy,
Bruises blossom. Blood leaks.
Like the look on the the face
Of a soldier who has fought valiantly,
Falling to the ground
As bullets make fissures in his skin.
A battle has been fought across our hearts
Across this place in time;
And only I can see the stains of it
Darkening the grass and the wild mushrooms.
Through it grow the crops of strength;
The kind that comes with loss.

A gauze reclines, relaxed, over the truth
Of wounds too deep to clot and scab.
No amount of alcohol will lure out the germs,
No amount of therapy will heal them anymore.
They fester. Reminders of an internal pain.
And at the irony prevails;
The door of a house may be innocent
Where a war is waged in its four walls.

I see you. My eyes are calm.
The irises are a gauze.
And the soul is a wound.
And it is festering.
And it's reason is you.


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