the warcry in your heart
can not always be penned or stained
for paper can not always handle
the poetry that runs in your veins
26/1/23
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As Dhriti scanned the last page of my answer booklet, she closed it with a soft thud. "I'm done either way," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. She finally handed it over to Aadarsh, muttering "asshole" under her breath. Thankfully, he missed it. I looked at both of them, shaking my head in disbelief, and started filling up my supplementary sheets.
Soon, the teacher returned to the classroom. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the silent room.
I was done with the exam almost 20 minutes early. Now, I sat at my seat, my mind racing as I stressed over how to get my answer booklet back from him. Momentarily, I glanced back at Aadarsh as he scribbled his answers with the speed of the wind.
Soon, Aadarsh got up from his seat, announcing to the teacher that he was done. I looked back at him, my eyes scanning for any sign of my answer booklet. Where the hell did he keep it? I thought to myself.
I was seated in the front row, and as Aadarsh strode past me to submit his answer sheet to the teacher, I caught a glimpse of my booklet, folded and tucked into the back pocket of his blue jeans. It was blatantly visible to anyone who cared to look.
I facepalmed myself, silently cursing Aadarsh in my mind. What if a teacher passed by our class and saw him? As our teacher took his sheets and walked towards the table to keep them on it, Aadarsh took out my booklet from his back pocket and handed it back to me with a wink and his signature grin Then, he left the classroom.
I finally sighed in relief and handed my sheets over to the teacher before leaving the classroom. Though I could leave now, since I used to travel by local bus, I decided to wait for my friends to finish their tests.
As I stepped out of the building and made my way to the canteen, I noticed Aadarsh already sitting there. He had his earphones plugged in and was scrolling through his phone, lost in his own world.
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What Are My WordsWorth
PoetryIt's a tale unaltered by time or memory, true to what happened in reality. We all have read about carefree boy and introvert girl trope penned by authors but how was it in real life ? As you delve into these pages, at end of my each poetry , I'll s...