Graphite in your memory book fades;
the writing pokes and strikes you down
With memories that you left as blades
The actual time is a good conductor
Graphite approves and bleeds
Without the remorse of painful tragedies and shortened sleeps
The soul, still hungry to feel something real and natural
Craving for abyss when it is already engraved into your soul
And yet, you seek chicken soup for your eyes
Painted by truthful lies or lies full of truth
Life has just blinked at your soul and you reached Nirvana(moksha)
Life is yet to be and you have lived
All of it in those few strokes of Graphite
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