Webbers and Flatters:
// In a quark of motion things will turn
light, significant enough to stich you in a hindsight-
the revolt'ness' have stopped, however the peculiarities aren't torn off, they're hanging relentlessly
afternoons are hard, typical of the hardness, although the sunsets are still pretty nostalgic of the times flew by
camouflaged over and over again just to emulate further, more sharper now
estranged of what it was earlier to replicate the exact pieces, pieces not torn, pieces not burned, pieces never dissolved,
anachronistic and cold, whose woes are once buy'ed' and 'sold'
whose pesky body has still not mould, and the tremors are constraint and never stoled
afternoons are pretty hard - and a little less chaotic is always appreciated
these waves of clouds are ecstatic and whimsical, underneath which the lies are forsaken and chilled-
the conflicts always wander back in the wrong time with the utterly wrong person, but hey-× not everyday ought to be neons and yellow, there's greys and dark greys and grey'est' of days rounded up-
these waves comes with a promise to draw back, hold still and mizzle with every setbacks,
to relive, to rekindle, to rejoice and set free -
and, anything that puts you to sleep ' //
-Narmada.