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Human's love //Caption You paint so well. You

Human's love //Caption You paint so well. You never blamed on anyone like a mother's wordless sound to her miscarriage. In this day and age, your eyelids have become best friend of tears. Your diabetic mother ask you for more dull sweets and your father wants more breathe. In between this all, you only left in this inane tea cups. I know, now you eat more neon gases than rajma chawal in order to bring light on your chaotic face. Your inner heart had designed so well carousel but now crave for audience. Your north stars, your dead hopes, your handmade sewed small clothes in coalition protest on the rallings of dargah. You tried to eradicate all the past daydream but they are like innocent birds, return to you again. You cry in night and make us believe that death feels more painful in night. Still, the star light save you and you live a bit more and a bit less in rythmn. I know you used to love this jovial wind of morning but they now pour themselves in the wet cotton of your night pillow. Your hands are too silly, they make their 'go back, simon' march towards your belly and make you remember about her once more. You whisper “my city is more of like graveyard when lights get off.” The art of hammering own demoniac home is just as same as knoting school shoelaces for someone who was never in existence. I always found this 'you' in every stabbed cerelac boxes. Once you thrown your echoes on the canvas of sky, I felt a soft tip of her finger who never dared to hold my index finger. You bury this buds beside the highway of destiny. In return, soil gave us artificial smile in which milk also couldn't be digest in it. I feel sorrow for you. Because all those new mother walk a feet away from you. They take pity on you and feel nervous when they show their baby. Your genuine smile tries to find you in their trembling eyes. You failed to give mother's love but you have always given human love even in her departure. In the end, someone will come to you, she will shout for you “mammaa, wake up?” but this time you will prefer to sleep more than waking up. This is the cycle of human love that will never die.
Human's love //Caption You paint so well. You never blamed on anyone like a mother's wordless sound to her miscarriage. In this day and age, your eyelids have become best friend of tears. Your diabetic mother ask you for more dull sweets and your father wants more breathe. In between this all, you only left in this inane tea cups. I know, now you eat more neon gases than rajma chawal in order to bring light on your chaotic face. Your inner heart had designed so well carousel but now crave for audience. Your north stars, your dead hopes, your handmade sewed small clothes in coalition protest on the rallings of dargah. You tried to eradicate all the past daydream but they are like innocent birds, return to you again. You cry in night and make us believe that death feels more painful in night. Still, the star light save you and you live a bit more and a bit less in rythmn. I know you used to love this jovial wind of morning but they now pour themselves in the wet cotton of your night pillow. Your hands are too silly, they make their 'go back, simon' march towards your belly and make you remember about her once more. You whisper “my city is more of like graveyard when lights get off.” The art of hammering own demoniac home is just as same as knoting school shoelaces for someone who was never in existence. I always found this 'you' in every stabbed cerelac boxes. Once you thrown your echoes on the canvas of sky, I felt a soft tip of her finger who never dared to hold my index finger. You bury this buds beside the highway of destiny. In return, soil gave us artificial smile in which milk also couldn't be digest in it. I feel sorrow for you. Because all those new mother walk a feet away from you. They take pity on you and feel nervous when they show their baby. Your genuine smile tries to find you in their trembling eyes. You failed to give mother's love but you have always given human love even in her departure. In the end, someone will come to you, she will shout for you “mammaa, wake up?” but this time you will prefer to sleep more than waking up. This is the cycle of human love that will never die.
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