Is it, a struggle of a feather
to survive its yanking and flouting...

Is understanding, as ruthless as it is,
another version of satisfaction...

From the futile war
remains legions of mutilated hearts...

O my beautiful butterfly
you are not so beautiful after all...

I'm so lost in me
that only in you I can...

The moon is yet full
even when just half or non...

When I do not find your black eyes
everything founders...

We all are on death row.
we all are convicted of living...

Our death is intended
unless we prove otherwise...

like a moth that was going towards the fire.
I have seen you in darkness...

Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...

So deep in my ears,
there is a song...