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“Lucky” – Nayana Nair

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I cannot digest
all that I read and find to be true.
Some portion of every beautiful art
hurts my heart.
All the tragedies and even forgettable bruises
could have been a play set under crimson bloodied skies
but they are not.
They happen in spaces that looks like the one
we might have passed through unknowingly.
They happen under the smiling sun
to people
who are supposed to read depressing statistics in magazines
and tell themselves that they are fine as long as
they are lucky by comparison.

“Crimson”- Nayana Nair

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As they laughed,
I would see myself
laugh at the things
that I didn’t really understand.
I only understood the crismson lines
that were ready to snap under my skin
any moment I decided to pull myself out
from the trance that my hope had me in.
The hope that
maybe breathing the same air as them
would help me get rid of what I am.

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