By Lakshita Annamalai Vijayakumar
Beginnings are tough,
but its light to the heart.
For it has overcome much rust,
and has been left with just the crust.
Lost but never found,
The heart so intricate,
it searches each crook.
Certainly no bound,
that it stops with its nook.
Unstable minds,
Irrelevant buds,
golden age of laden, of confusion
and new bones arising.
The last one grew some heart bones,
are you too here to grow more?
For destiny can only tell,
what will lie beside one.
Will it be you,
that my heart will beat?
By Lakshita Annamalai Vijayakumar
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