The fragility of time, dwindling truth, eroding freedom for dreams to prosper
What I read from daily events, fuels my hopelessness, yet I find freedom in what I write
There is too much pain, and they have forgotten the secret of healing
Diminishing senses imagines a distorted reality, only, they are built on false hopes
Trite languages do not evoke any real emotions, I skip the narratives
Emptying the residues of untruthful times, seeking freedom a melancholic grip
Doubting my sleeps, the drained energy during a daily tussle with monotonous busyness
When there was real hope, in deeds, and love that could sail across turbulent years
Fleeing from empty promises while trying to gather my life, in my mind, honoring my judgement
-Amitav Chowdhury
Amitav Chowdhury 