Awareness

A fragile pistillum sways to conceal the sperms in pestle. Unilaterally fired salvos were increasing. After the dig, bodies in the debris were popping up daily. There was no truce for brothers in arms. Struggling to hold on the humanism, anger was rising from the white paper. A sense of lost is weaponized. There is a mix of solemnity and hurt. Pacemaker was becoming a slave, will not respect cadence. Obscurity must take refuge. The golden lined clouds were enduring the sun.A howitzer fires at moon. It was time to find the anchor, shoving aside the mortgage of life. SATISH VERMA