The eyes that contain enigmas of the universe written through their
vicious fantasies, beneath the merciless tendency to bleed words, from wounds of bygones that haven’t had the privilege of remaining bygones.
The yellow shirts and pastel scarves, the magenta bangles and their
futile laughs, give away no whispers to the Sisyphean predicament —of
relentlessly endeavoring in the absence of closure.
The outcasts and underdogs gracefully hesitate to elevate their selfish
desire to be normalized.
They revolt against mythical gods and immortalized mortals, who
promise liberation and redemption for the sake of art, but break the
covenant like the devil breaks a virgin heart.
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That’s my girl! Wow!!
Noice
Well written Shruti!! Feel like whistling as in the movie.. keep writing more and more.. Be a farmer in your field thats LITERATURE.
You have a beautiful mind. i am happy for you.
Keep the good work going.