Smoking cigarettes on balcony

Waking up in new zip codes

Don’t me a wanderer,

It makes me think harder

About the things,

I carried to this new place.

A bruised heart, few pains, a rugged past,

Buried in an appealing dark.

Here and now, I

Put twinkling lights

On my own caged shades.

Who did you think built her character?

That I’m inking down,

Certainly,

Some old stories,

Written in rotten books.

Unquestionably, no.

My story begins with you,

And ends with your departure.

I wonder,

Why even I’m inking this

Even when my blood is enough

Moving grief to my organs

Capable of giving chills down

The spine.

Trying to be a cool writer,

Or just begging aesthetically.

Slamming doors,

Since my teens

So, I can quaff beer in peace

And howl in the twinkling nights.

Here I end the torment,

And makes you free.

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