Identity

Jheets Jots
May 9, 2022

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Photo by Natalya Letunova on Unsplash

The inner child cries within,
To others, the blame she pin,
She says this was the hand,
Dealt, for her to withstand.

Her mother told her,
That life was not so pure,
That poor was just a thought,
Intrusive if not caught.

With all her will, she tried to change,
Till to herself, she became estrange,
She could not tell what was true,
As the cycle began anew.

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Jheets Jots

Novice Writer| Tech, Biology, and Social Psych| BSc in Molecular Genetics 🔬 Dreamer 💭 Poet 🖋Tamil Canadian| Creator of https://medium.com/the-mole-biologists