Like a cold, double-headed arrow.
When words halt before they're said
I drown in my chalice of sorrow.
Like a beggar for whom the houses
On the sides of the road are closed.
Only your voice a hope arouses,
Otherwise, in life a gloom is imposed.
A collection of some selected pieces of writing from me, Subhashish Bhadra - another average Joe from St. Stephen's College, Delhi, whose dream job is to get paid for what he enjoys i.e. writing.
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