A Part of Me by Swanti Sharma

This pain will not last,
only grave will share it.
Strokes have hardened this.
It has now become stubborn.

The storms usually come and go
blowing off its skin from sideways.

The pain has a swell.
Like a bitter gourd it tastes of gloom.

The pain has midwife as the agony,
Restless nights and flow of anguish
bona fides all.

Those who could have judged but
betrayed the interests and flouted the facts being told.

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