It goes without words that many great ones became disturbed-never adjusting simply self-destructing! Overbearing clouds now trapping the truth-a shout becomes a whisper as he cries for help.
Emasculated faces from their inner horrors, can’t turn back, love has to last forever! So the dream waits and waits, still waiting to discover. Do we love remembering moment to moment? Or, does every lost love return? Do all false dreams become the hunted? If I can’t hold on forever, then how do I deal with the memory? Isn’t the remembering

a sign of a deep pleading?

Write a comment

You need tologin.