It does not make any sense
to go beyond, where the road ends.
He was searching the meaning
of life. Moving out of comfort zone
to Roman cave.
Émigré to chessboard,
he will stop pushing the game.
But what about the demons―
sitting on my chest, in cahoots with the nails?
Somebody walks into assassin's
trap. Somebody's bread does not
reach the home.
A child will ask, when my
father will return? There was no answer.
The tide has brought back