Boon, bane

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Ignoring weeping body
Handed over to mind, reins
Wayward thought horses
Can gallop where they may

Selecting single chain
Of thought, I dust  mop
Lovingly bathe to dress
In words and their retinue

Once dressed to kill
I present to friends, foes
To take potshots, give marks
Like denigrate, who knows!

Postpartum blues
First wax then wane, lover of words
So called poet, has such a fate
Simultaneously a blessing, bane~

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