poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
This is the second time this year,That I have almost built my grave,A blood bath,Of flowers and my hope,All laid upon soil,An amalgamation of colour,The death of me,In art form, My eyes have not run dry in over 15 yearsThe faucet runs,Forms the 5 rivers of Punjab,Purges the grief of all our people through me, […]