I see lives, hollow and stuffed...
Meaningless motives, dried souls and rough voices
...heap of dried grass tied together,
Gestures without expressions, smiles without passion..
I see forced walk through the corridors of life...
...run without zeal for the ambitions tied,
I see myself seeking refuge...
…in the cellar filled with words, translations & solitude,
I see shrinking perimeters of my existence.
Copyright © abhishek mishra