Such was the delicate condition of the heart.
The day read us, the night understood us.
Shattering the dream with open eyes
Seeing my own life laughed at me.
were pain medicine medicines pain how we breathe
The winds against us were also poisonous.
I had a thousand words to say
The silence on our lips used to die on us.
Our enmity with God was liquor cigarette
And the book was made of all these three.
Nik Rajpoot-
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