For broken as I am
Pieces yet scatters
With every storm passing by
It further generate more damage.
Though I hold the ground , firm n tall
Further it disintegrate into Smaller piece as sand.
Yet I cling to liquidity and withhold myself into a ball.
The melancholy echoes so hard that smeared pieces
Fall apart and the holding of the ball breaks open to let loose
And vaunting of collecting and disintegrating continues.
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