None of it matters anymore
The sunrays come in, go out
without affecting the heat inside,
I should make a rapid video of it.
The ticking of clock is louder now a days,
makes no contribution to my music though.
I can make origami too,
from the torn papers scattered in my room.
All this brooding,
I can write a poem, right!
No, I don't do any of these.
May be none of these matters without you.
I just put it all together on a paper to write a letter to you and throw it again,
just to make origami later may be!
And slowly my solitude transforms to loneliness.
Just like a caterpillar to a butterfly,
well reverse may be.
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