An unsettling deciphers
a state of silence :
When every mirror sells illusion,
How can you trust a pair of dreamy eyes?

A stoic whimper,
A mist that smells like the sun,
A kiss that compels of it’s origin,
Carry all of them till the day of reckoning.

You never know, when you shall be healed,
A rebirth is just a meaningless smile away.
Isn’t it?

– Shashank Bhardwaj