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A rhythm than a poem, which is creation of intense criticism which finally finds its place in the lap of romanticism.

The mountains and the trees and the hills,
adore the class of her unrelenting skills.
And the gleam of her soothing eyes,
Kills me with a sting of soothing cries.

My heart remained my heart,
As it tarried for your known thwart.
Leaving my ill-fated person,
Why take it back to my riddled lot?

The charm of an enthrall, even her feet,
Made me discard my heart’s seat.
A burnt-out heart, my name shamed,
Same is what got the, self, tamed.

I am losing reins of my veins, indeed heyday,
To whom I was stuck, I have fallen prey.
Glib, those water circles by a stone,
One who they cherish, with it their death is known.

The caress has rendered my heart palsy
My heart, the asundered one,
Will bear all the pain with ecstasy
Or your remembrance will be shun.

Please note that I have reproduced this “poem” from my book “The Verve”, obviously, I’m the copyright holder and no body sues himself. I am mentioning this for the content of this poem and how blunt it is. The time around that I wrote this, I was only some 15 years old, didn’t have a girlfriend then, I had one a year later at the Delhi Public School, Srinagar, I told her that I wrote this with you in my mind, she gave me a lovely smile. And, then the worst happened, she went through my journal and found out that it was written well over a year before I even saw her, she gave me a tight slap. 

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