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The pity of pities
In a year,
You brought me
Ten years younger.
In a month,
You sent me
Ten years older.
In a year,
You exuded my
Hormones to that of a lad.
In a month,
You defused it
Far less to one older than me.
In a year,
You kindled me
To soar to the peak.
In a month,
You bundled me
To plummet to the ditch.
But in a year,
You activated in me
The finest faculty.
It is in a month
That you motivated
It to result in fruiting.
In a month of setting,
Impulses suffered a lot.
Intellect reaped a lot.
Stress breeds in one
The best
Though in the process,
It upsets
Him, the pity of pities.
Can you put me back
To saddle high in the track?
13.06.99
poem
by
Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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