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(This poem was written by a friend who wanted me to share it)

The thorns of seclusion are hurting my soul,

I feel myself as an ever burning coal,

A happy phase is there to satisy my thirst,

One glimpse is seen and in another moment, it bursts

Can you believe, someone can be that much alone,

To be neglected as in a way a stone is thrown,

Treated like a scrap that can never be used,

For having ignorant attitude; everyone has an excuse,

While I sit down in solitude, I purify my face,

With the twinkling beads in my eyes that my heart proudly trace.


Self proclaimed Insomnia

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Thankfully I am among those Lucky people who sleep with much comfort at night, and there have hardly been any traces of insomnia in my past, no annoying episodes of sleeplessness.
But for once I want to be (a little) insomniac really and sometimes I fight sleep because nighttime, is indeed the best and the most peaceful time of the day.
All the creative juices flow, the writer’s block often seize to exist and I get to think freely without any trivial interruptions which a busy day brings.
Nighttime is the most enchanting of my whole 24hour time, because it belongs solely to me, and this little respite from the rush of daytime and solitude of the night, is indeed much appreciated.
So each night I fight sleep like crazy and trick my mind into believing that I have insomnia and usually read and think as long as I can.