Only if those obsessions with the relentless illusions would stop
Always a grand falsehood, but nothing to hold them together
Insanity of a habitual nature that shaped the sphere of chaos
Of burden, fear, vengeance, illicit feelings, actions deplorable
Before love can flourish, emotions can try searching for the souls
Rushes in the evils of rogue sentiments approved by a sinister world
Tender mornings feel harsher because of untimely intrusions
Into the most private spaces of life, like an eavesdropper
Stealing the pure feelings and replacing them with absurdities
Uncertainties, traditional unrest, created discrimination
Tired of the metaphors trying to express some unholy desires
Fresh reflections and enthusiastic voices are stifled early
Conspiring borders demarcate the extent of cultural wounds
~Amitav
