by Venkat


I am a circle
Made of steel
Equal on every side
Rolling, with same distances
From every meaning

Circles, we all are
Made to move
On this equidistant truth

Yet, we remain polygons
Irregular in portions
Parts of steel, parts of clay
Parts we hide, parts we show
Parts we refuse, parts we keep
Parts we want, parts we deny
Parts we see, parts we cannot

So stuck we are
Holding our illusory edges
Thinking of a Life
We were so made to roll on
In cycles unstoppable
As fine circles
Of steel


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