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wounds narrate a melancholic rain fall...
words clinging to the last letters.
gulping the lust of freedom,
our veins scribble with blood
dreaming an eternal bliss.
darling, our wounds are still breathing agony.

in the forest

thousand trees watching the sunrise,
even the falling leaves departed
without a sigh.
sun rose to kill our dreams,
and the same left for them.

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while my hands are so open
absorbing the pleasures of those
who threw it unwanted.
dear ..life is so close.
rather than beauty,
we should sing songs of the roads ahead!