After a noisy walk
with the sleeping world
I am now sitting face to face with it.
I won’t sleep,
my life, tied to the string of time, keeps spinning on the thread of the reel
A newly creeping body in a saree…
just at her young teenage
anyone can pay attention to her
If it ends at the bud
the wound remains
It fades slowly over time
Then one day all is forgotten
this forgetting becomes a sharp pin,
in fact, nothing can be forgotten
everything remains in layers
deep in the mind and chest.
: Motivation : 