Mist

And I thought through fingers
my expressions, words

All I had earned in life
was a flowing pen on paper

Criticized, abused or adored
it was blood in disguise

Else how could words impact
if not inflicted with pain

If people do not relate
do not create awe?

A story of fiction
somewhere hidden a gist of truth

Exposing and hiding together
it was mist amongst clear skies!

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