Friday

History

In the light of an obedient flame
that drinks oil from a rusty can,
With the scalpel of history,
I am carving out flowery wounds
upon my chest.

5 comments:

megha punater said...

hear hear

Sagar said...

Megha~ :)

bela said...

Deliciously sado-masochist.

Sagar said...

Bela~ haha, thanks.

RustyNeurons said...

Why do we do it? we do all the time.

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