Death

O how I desire, the deluge {a severe flood} to scrub Aside all the black-hearted, and the tender-hearted would be full with warmth, so they won’t harden, but they will fall for the word hasn’t marked them, they will forget

“What is it that makes you flabbergasted, my dear mortal? This isn’t for the first time you’ve been throttled by the fear of demise” says the death angel while ripping apart my bones. “Why am I still remain, to you,

Sometimes you want to shut the book and bring out the darkness from bleached words of a lonely march of the tree. How to think or not to think drinking the wine of pain? Baby, do not go into the

What would happen on the day When death tinkers in your life This thought might recoil once It turns a ‘men’ into ‘corpse’ I soliloquy kith will pretending of regret by flowing false tears Several examine you by discussing your

This life has snubbed the bloom like a thick brown sac thrown on the sod. An octogenarian tries to slice the hope indulgingly to achieve immortality! Was it a virile snarl? A rose bud wrenched open in a fatherless home.