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


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