Wronging the self and denying the freedom of looking at open skies
Not expressing loud enough so echoes can play around in wilderness
Life is unstirred by the ripples of openness
Misses out on the frolicking taste of wandering with positive dreams
What’s the point of embellishing those feelings with falsehoods?
Reading something macabre every day to arouse the demons
In the cauldron of woes throwing some diabolical mantras
Till the time turmoil transforms into a terrible disorder; a tempest awakens
Infusing the same intensity of negativity in someone’s life as well
~Amitav
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