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written by: Pi



Don't know if I will be here or gone
if my footsteps would be
poetry or unforgivable mistakes

It is good to be lost
till the answer
finds itself

It is easy to hate me - I thought
past was a shrub
to prune

I thought many things
Golden mornings
with you were one of them

I am the God whose creations
chased him to nowhere
on the seventh day

It is easy to hate me - I do that often
Love yourself
Doesn't matter I am here, or gone.



Whimsical poet - love to explore the unknown territories of human mind.

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