Undefined

Oct 31, 2022

1 min read

By Raina Bhatia

Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme

You can just let it flow

Let your mind’s nature run its course

The ink from your pen

A flowing river

Poetry doesn’t have to make sense

Not to them

Not to you

Jumbled thoughts

Never-ending feelings

I am

A thousand words

Waiting to be spoken

I am

A thousand distasters

Waiting to happen

I am

Something

That could have been

And something

That could be

By Raina Bhatia

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