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Kartik Prajapat

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To speak it out, it remains not the same. I have stayed, though, gulped it all down in the esophagus of my conscience. Okay, agree, it was silly of me, better said I'm silly enough to understand what goes around, that so suddenly turns back to me— not reflected, not at all refracted but scattered, as similar as the expectations of mine. Or maybe, it's me on my part which pats on waiting to be favored by you the way I want. Or it just a mere product of my imagination that has gone wrong and I in

To speak it out, it remains not the same. I have stayed, though, gulped it all down in the esophagus of my conscience. Okay, agree, it was silly of me, better said I'm silly enough to understand what goes around, that so suddenly turns back to me— not reflected, not at all refracted but scattered, as similar as the expectations of mine. Or maybe, it's me on my part which pats on waiting to be favored by you the way I want. Or it just a mere product of my imagination that has gone wrong and I in