Guts

Aroma is in the room, but not stale chapati this time,

Broom are in hands, but not in mine when sun shine,

Guts are their, but not for asking electricity nearby,

My scent is making confusion, many eyes said he was much shy.

In between my nerves replied, I lie,

Actually, my breath kept myself bounded, when I cry

When you locked me inside my own anatomy,

I was flying there recognizing myself and asked, if you have guts then show me!

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Raghuvansh Bhardwaj

Student, i write poetries both in english and hindi