I’m not the same, and I’m not going to play your game, I see through your disguise and your self-righteous lies. So take these borrowed breaths, For I have learned to breathe without air, and I ain’t afraid to die.
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Your hands are red, And there’s a knife in my back. Blood shed by blood, A war within a home. What is it about my blood, That gets you so drunk? Is it that I am my M
One of my goals for the year has been to share more of my poetry. Interlinked with that goal has been a project to originally write poems in Hindi/Urdu and offer English (possibly other) translations.
When it’s all been done a million times, You gotta ask yourself, How ‘bout something new? #WordsByMadhur
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