orginal

Originality

I say the same things.
Until they say ‘enough!’
I think a dozen different things.
Yet I write the same stuff.

Somewhere in between lives;
I lost my originality.
Cut open by a dozen knives;
lies bleeding, my personality.

Collated and then duplicated;
my thoughts traverse universes.
Censored, nay, mutilated;
I recited repeated verses.

Curses.

Varun Rajagopalan.

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