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How to Heal Your Wounded Inner Child

When was it ever tranquil inside a poet's heart 
There lies the carcass of cherished dreams
And here are scattered splinters of hurtful words,
the tender fragments are still sore...
Sublimity of passion, its picturesque canvas,
is wrecked
At the threshold of streaming emotion,
There sits an old sage within my heart, comforting
a little wounded me!

Picture design by Anumita Roy

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