Guns Of Nostalgia


The sharp droplets of this atrocious rain are stinging my scars,
One again those unsung pledges have invited my thoughts.
Crawling through the desolated streets of crowded world,
My faculties are rumbling the tales of agony.

Oh! The guns of nostalgia, don’t hit me like that,
My body is fragile and maimed is my soul.
I owe this condition to my ravenous dove,
whose heavenish asylum was once my abode.
My beautiful tyrant denied me company and crossed the world in search of sooth.

What she parcelled was inadmissible pain,
The pain which offered me a life of mourning.
This life was a burden but the gift of my raven, nonetheless,
I stitched my lips and stabbed my dreams !!
Let me live….. !!!

By Suhaan Rehbar.

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