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In the Barber's Shop

by Tripta Chandola
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Through the reflected realities
the washed out tiles
the gathered scum
the anti-septic emotions

lives constantly
cleaned and shaven.

Through the sharp blades
with a purpose
and no porpoise
with contagious cuts

fingers crackle
frozen and bleeding.

Through the lumps left
washed emotions
whispered lies
scared nightmares
scarring daylights

pass through
unnoticed in

the fake conversations
and heartfelt music.

Through the million gazes
showing too many of you
slowing too many of me
me, me and me


look away.


More By  :  Tripta Chandola

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