Battered and lashed by the cold waves of life,
I sat down on the banks of memory
As life turned into a walk on the knife –
Razor-sharp edge down its trajectory
Bruising me bodily and mentally.
A gentle tide carried me far away
where bruishes and cuts lost their complete way
And life is no more a tree full of thorns
But a dreamland – where I could ever play;
And where the untold joy of childhood dawns!
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