There was once a time,
When I’d hold on too strong, to the dimes.
I’d gripe at even pennies, no matter how worthless,
Believing they’d all add to something precious.


And despite my hands numbing,
I’d still go on strongly clutching
Onto things that didn’t even feel right anymore,
And gave me nothing but pain like never before.

For, I gave too much importance,
To things that were insignificant.
I thought that losing anything, worthy or not,
Would mean losing a piece of myself too, diminishing to a dot.
And that I’d turn into someone,
Who was no longer recognised by anyone.

But I realised I was so wrong,
When I let go of something I thought to me belonged.
And I did lose a piece of myself,
But it was the part of me that was nothing but a burdening shelf.
As I felt lighter and elated,
I realised some experiences are created,
With the sole purpose of enlightenment,
And not built with the purpose of lasting until retirement.

I figured, it’s not necessary,
To be clingy,
To people who don’t care,
To things that are too much to bear,
To things that don’t appeal to me anymore,
To things that aren’t worth fighting for,
Because, sometimes, what you lose really,
Is less of a loss and more of a gain truly.

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