They flowed like a river
Hung staccato in the air
Wrapped me in delirium,
Before they freed me, again
Had the power of armies
The moral weight of nothingness
They were brutal in their ugliness
Before turning gloriously beautiful
Made me love
Made me hate, made my pity turn to indifference
They were gospel truth
And hollow lies, banalities to fill diaries with
Six hundred rupees for a paperback
Twelve hundred for a hardback
And yet when all is said and done,
Words are still cheap
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