or sign in with e-mail
by Satish Verma Jun 9, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
How much I know me, I will ask you one day. That was a symbolic wish, if you were on moon to celebrate your own death, at the hands of unknown. The deepest mystery was, why must you live. This was a culture of thriving with make-ups. If you recite a truth, you become ugly. Hunted by lymphs and nodes you cannot walk straight. You turn back, when the time of departure comes. Hail the dead, who licks the rock-salt in end. Nothing else was real.