“Liar,” I was once called.Swore I upon my poetry —Lines that emanatedFrom the depths of my being,The manifested words, my very breath —Swore I that I had utteredNo untruths.Disbelief and scorn greeted me.After all, what was poetryBut a figment of imagination? — Vidya Shankar
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Published on December 18, 2018 08:38