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Wick
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When I light you with a match stick
You simply laugh at me in bright colours initially
You are driving out the bulks of darkness in me
Stocked here since long

When I try to burn the undue masses of desires
I seek your presence and take your assistance
The soul then becomes a pearl
That is washed with fresh snow water

When hopes go on ringing in my soul
In raging stakes and also in highly audible sounds
I seek all your help in needed slots
In putting down all these decibels to low tones

Who are you ? a very well known identity
You are the wick in my burning body
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