Transgressions of a silent type
All that happens is silence, with resilience
Memories cleansed by wailing
Thus, surrendered to the flow
There’s not much hope in the morrow
Sorrow, the world joins
All that negativity could gather
The courage to be curious
About a feeble heart; waylaid
Whispers become crisper
Cuts mercilessly through the silence
Changes are uncertain
But time is inimical and clinical
Meek guards cannot defend
Drink from the baneful rivers
Fatal! Transgressions are turmoil
~Amitav
And we drank and drink and shall drink.
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The attractive, yet, a coercive path indeed…
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Indeed.
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