Would we have met In the streets Of our motherland? Possibly over a cup of steaming chai, Standing next to the street vendor Around the corner. The smell of tainted air And the buzzing of motorcycles surrounding us. Or would we become lost In the crowds of similar faces and dress? I was made for you, As you were for me. In this life And every life there possibly Could be. For who knows? I might catch your glance in a passing moment, As we are divided by the sea of vehicles filling the narrow street. Or we might bump in the midst Of the ocean of bodies. Creating the same story We are creating
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