Have you ever felt the wings of monsoon clouds? The grey, and sleepy ones? Have you? I am asking, yes you? I have today. I have seen my madness interacting with me. The plate of conversation was passed from the table of reality to my imagination. The scent of sandalwood, of the slight red one tickled the curtains of memories. The happiness was wedded to tears. They washed the different shades of time and I could see my detachment still sitting. I wish to be a child free from the pangs of mirth, care and of affection. I wish to die, leaving everything behind. I wish to continue in my death with a sole treasure named - memory.
Come feed my inhibition, freedom, pain, and surrender. Usher me to breed creation for life, vision, and knowledge
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