Who Stole my magical part?
Once i was a single piece of story,
And then was added up with a bit of Magic.
I roamed about on the grass and the slums
And on the glass of hope and in salty lake.
A bottle of tear was changed to pure wine
And the glasses of wine to strong Vodka.
The magic was so sleek and the core was hot
It burnt me like a cup of water in a pot
my hair got straightened, when the magic
Was by hearted by me and filled up my nerve.
It was born in me and grew with me and then,
I thought it would die with me and get buried.
Nothing happened, never did i die or the other,
Never did the magic die and moved selfless.
Never ambitious i was, but the magic was.
Not the magician i was of that magic, i thought
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