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By Ishita Singhal

One puff at a time,

unfolds the mystery of the smoke.

It hits strongly to your nervous system

making it numb and contour.

You start moving like your elements starts dispersing.

You try to hold it escapes to other fields.

You dig into the conversation and speak your heart out.

You ignore all the allegations, insults, and pride.

You hold it softly that white stick of freedom between your lips.

You inhale its essence and swallow its rhythm with nothing but relief.

You drive with it into the arithmetic system of life.

For the first time in a while, I felt alive.

By Ishita Singhal

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