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Perhaps, as poets we purposely chase the shooting

Perhaps, as poets we purposely chase the shooting stars, more to feel the aroused melancholy of being irreparably broken. It's as if, we demand a battle to die. To ceremoniously dissolve into time like a glorified martyr, bleeding ink and tears. Martyrs on the stained sheets
Perhaps, as poets we purposely chase the shooting stars, more to feel the aroused melancholy of being irreparably broken. It's as if, we demand a battle to die. To ceremoniously dissolve into time like a glorified martyr, bleeding ink and tears. Martyrs on the stained sheets
saimanohar6341

Sai Manohar

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