In college’s fleeting span, memories softly bloom,
The warmth of summer sunshine on golden afternoons,
The echo of laughter in an old photograph,
What is art?
Art is pain,
She gazed at me asserting herselfAs my whole world came crashing in.The life, completely drained,The jovial, positive…
"Words unsaid,Feelings not expressed,Questions unanswered,Wounds not healedLeave scars that burn your soul.
Cold stones and broken bones,New facade and frame of mind.Where does this take us?Will there be an end?Or is this the mundane melancholy of…
It is 6 o’clock and the yellow ball of fire gradually gazed from the horizon,