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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