Misfit

You trickle into my life like rain in November

and imbibe a part of my soul.

You take a hold of it, you morph into it

sometimes you call it home.

 

But remember, when you leave me,

and I say when and not if

you take that particular part of my soul with you

that’s how it is, call me crazy, condescending or childish

 

the way you take that part of my soul,

that shining shield to match your armour of gold,

it depends on how you leave me,

on the reason the salt flows from my eyes to the sea.

 

You might rip it away forcibly

or shatter the part itself as you hammer it away, while cracking and chipping the rest

or I may give it to you willingly, biting down the pain it causes me

for I have to let you go

 

A new part will grow in its wake, as it always does

the essence of time will heal the cracks, as it always does

 

That is the reason why my soul is juxtaposition of asymmetry

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