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  • hashtagkalakar
    • Sep 7
    • 1 min read

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By Akshara Harini Gande


The sun sets and the day closes.

She is on her way to go,

Yet moves on the low.

The chattering walls spit at her entry,

Or maybe it’s the door.



The house was never home.

Reality hits her eyes,

But what could she do but lie ?

Her hands are tied,

and the walking bomb suffocates her.

Burning wind soothes her fright,

Since to her dreams-

There is no light!


By Akshara Harini Gande



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