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The little things used to amuse me

the way rain kisses the earth,

the sun peeping through the clouds and

the waves nibbling the shore.

But with age things altered,

losing the ability to feel,

the things once I loved.

The days turned strange

 beautiful sunsets and sunrise shifted to

 dreadful weekdays and weekends.

The more I endured, the more I

lost the gift to cherish those moments.

Not sure when I lost all those or how

but all I’m certain is that ,

I’m a matchstick waiting for its quietus. 

 

 

 

Abstract

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