The stultifying existence often find a place in some fatalistically optimistic manuscript
Scolded and molded into a submissive narrative; exasperatingly intricate with the vulgar details
Of all the sins that are glorified bloom in an alternate paradise conceived by the infernal imaginations
Flowers and their intoxications are delusionally enjoyed when crushed many times between the palms
This anathema spreads stealthily through the murky clouds that heavily guard the evil intentions
Of all the pleasures, there comes a time when everything becomes toxic and prepares a denouement
~Amitav
Everything has a specific time of denouncement. Loved the poem!
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Thank you so much.
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