I’m an occasional poet
No, not one of occasions
But the one who tries hard
To run away from writing
As much as one can
The one who hides
In work and weekends and worries
As much as one can
It is only when i can’t run, can’t hide
Only when it feels some part of me will die
It is only then
That i wear these waxed wings of words
And fly

-Adee, some months back in 2015 on a blue evening in London

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