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Those boring lines of mine
The ones that never got below anyone’s spine
Those idiotic sayings and thoughts
The Ones that discuss about do’s and do not’s
They don’t deserve to be called “masterpieces”
They never shatter hearts into pieces
They are treated as crap as they deserve
And thats why I’m frank, not reserved

Those clumsy love poems
Which sound more of ‘meant-for-girls Hymns’
Those irritating convey through letters
The ones that pretended to feel, never utters
Are in real, the real shit
I think I should never give them another hit
I’m sure I’m never gonna try that
I’ll surely sit and write but no write-ups like that