A desert, a cold one
A sharp, piercing wind, glass shattering,
The sand, memories,
Lost from the mind’s grip,
Our tears, salty, our intentions, faulty
What rose will blossom?
What water in a desert?
North, South, east, west,
From broken glass comes blood,
From which we write upon
Our own scars reading
What we sacrificed for love
Empty your eyes are,
Clouds engulf the midnight moon,
What a lie your words were!
Perhaps such response is better,
Hello, my name is Aman and I’m 18. I typically write in Urdu and occasionally English or Spanish. One can read more of my works at urduahsaas.wordpress.com
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