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The Bottle In My Room

The Bottle In My Room

1 min
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It doesn’t talk,

It doesn’t want,

It doesn’t demand,

Nor does it command,

It’s not just full and filled with

Water,

But is fulfilling, by

Nature,

It has nurtured me,

And has served me,

Since the time

Immemorial,

But has never asked for things,

Temporal,

It bears it all,

It has it all,

It’s the source of

Life,

To me, in a way,

Serving me,

Morning, night&day,


I never realised its presence,

Why would I?

After-all? That’s my

Justification

It doesn’t understand,

Figures of speech like,

Simile, Metaphor and

Personification!


The 200 milliliter

Bottle in my Room.


Yet, it hides all my secrets,

And burns my all body-fat,

It doesn’t fuss around, about

This and that.

It feels warm when it’s winter,

And cold when it’s summer,

It lets me sip

The content it carries, without

Hurting a bit,

It sees and senses

My lips,

It’s joy, grief& melancholy,

But never does it talk about,

Things unnecessary,

And people more worldly.


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