9 november 2024
To End The Poem
When you walk
on moon in February, I take-down
the clouds to become wet.
Your memory lingers.
I gather the monarchs to
play with my past.
I am not sure, when
the dark moves on to give space
to imprisoned pain.
25 july 2025
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24 july 2025
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23 july 2025
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22 july 2025
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22 july 2025
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21 july 2025
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21 july 2025
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20 july 2025
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19 july 2025
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19 july 2025
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