Living in a cyst, it would explore the breast. The black ethics goes beyond the bounds of mystique of non-movement. A while away a conflict comes out of the body. Melts into a face. There is no flesh, no skin.
This market is full of gimmickries, They can attract you till you feel your heartbeats, You can splurge whole your heart out, Like cash, card, love, greed, Your sentiments too, In whatever shapes and forms, But, your hunger is never
You’re the reason I breathe Life into the light You’re the reason I whisper Your name each time I pray You’re the reason I am a fighter Fighting for what rightfully mine You’re the reason I am a passionate lover