“Ugh, rotten stains… Won’t budge…”
Problems come and go, opinions differ,
The boy stumbled a bit as he made his way through the quiet neighbourhood. His guitar bag felt heavy on his shoulders, and he struggled to
Eyes groggy from the cold wind,
Prophecies of your past stare into oblivion.
So lost in your righteousness
You fail to contain the violence.
“Your Amma called,” whimpered Abba, “She’s not… well. She wants to see you.”
It was rather a pallid looking steel box; grey-shaded, almost colourless and drained of life. Which made it ideal for a twelve-year-old girl secreting away all her shenanigans, out of everyone’s...
A fresh chopped moon radiates,
Facing the lacy waves.
Circumstances started to change
"What was their idea of fun?"
From my balcony, I watch the van load up with all their belongings.
With nothing left to give,
She withered away.
From black, then to white
And she faded to gray.
As I write to you, I pray and hope that this letter reaches you in safe hands. Sadly, your Amma can only do that now. I’m sorry