Category: Life

Autopsy of a Poet

It was my  first autopsy, there is a fair hint of decay but no bruises or wounds I made opening incisions on his body, beneath the bone deeper than marrow I found some subtle sonnets left for his love-the, one who abandoned him, is that…

You and Yourself

Nobody is ever going to be with you. Except yourself. People may give you their words make fake promises act like they care or they love But in the end, Boom! There comes a wolf dressed like a sheep. Who do you care about among…