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In a world where we're bundled by innumerable dilemmas, we must plate our thoughts with utmost magniloquence. Accept the baton, and embark on a journey where tumult greets you at every checkpoint, envision your destiny - towards society.

Our society, a truly fascinating piece of magnificence, isn’t it?

Bundled by chaos, engulfed by disruption and choked by demolition.


Now, how must we reside in this construct? 

A conceptual construct so vague, that we fail to recognise the rooted stems of it. So shall we attempt to excavate the stems? If we do, we shall through poetry.


For narration fails before the grace of poetry. As poetry advents the poignant pollen of society, we must straw our minds into it’s pool. Society will never surrender, hence our arsenal shall be forever carved.


When the ammunition is demanded, we shall unleash the havoc on the demolition. But do not be mistaken. Society is in no means the demon here, only we stand as the vile venom.


It shouldn’t hurt to converge our venom with the honey-dew of bliss, for our guidance will serve as the tunnelled torch to progress.

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Where legality dominates

One's creativity. Where legality seizes one

Of opportunity. On spectrums lying helplessly

As unrest accepts a new evolution.

Mustn’t we march on with a hymn, construct our own institution?

A failed displacement. A carnival of mesmerization, yet aloof we stand, rejoicing our delight in solitude. For identity is one aspect, and association is another. 


Now how must one identify those willing to accept?

For a cursed wording such involving a willingness does employ a sense of authority, unconsented.


A sense of individuality, a sense of pride. 

Where one’s motto is defined by their own carving, their own creation.


As the lushful lethargy of illiteracy greets the astute,

How are you willing to emerge?

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As norms oppress our opulent originality,

Aggressively abusing the arrested fragility,

Will we approach it with grit and intensity,

Or seek motivation behind words, merely

Scripted by another individual, perhaps an atrocity. 

To first have our identities questioned, then abuses hurled; an irretrievably perplexing nature of an abundance so sequentially prominent. To be unable to associate, or even feel validated enough to have the courage to imbue reflects on the nature with which the desire to evolve produces.


Our constant search for a perusal defining how we can love, a permit to identify as lovable itself echoes our demeaning portrait of ourselves. Why must we bury our meaning in the muddy hands of an incessantly disturbed governing system?


For even an excessively glorious cloth, with seven colours of magnificence seem like understatements.


With newfound pride, deafening hymns and boastful chants, can we establish grounds on our own infatuation, translated as identity?


A gender here, a gender there. Mindlessly colloquial? Presented by the layman’s perspective. To seek the accurate academics for romance, justice and power by salinising our vulnerability roars for our daring galls of the Earth.


Vindicate our vibrance, as the saturation of our originality approaches the glamour of the ramp.

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