Still the same


My mind was on my own
I had not grown,
Any older from last time
All I did in a poem was rhyme
I had no sense about it
All I wrote was itself trying to fit
In the senses of itself,
My mind was on my own
I had not grown.
Nobody had the idea
How difficult it was
As they had already lost
A lot had to be learned
From their mind
Everything had burnt
Whatever they knew
They had to do
To prove themselves,
But my mind was on my own
I really had not grown.

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