There are nights
Seemingly endless
Starless
Moonless
No fireflies
No hopes
Just pain
A color
The color of open wound
And the stench
Stale breath
Still trying to grasp some life
Scrolling down the ifs and buts
Over and over again!
To the point where
Existence becomes a burden
Morning becomes a hurdle
Red – A poem in free verse
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E-Paper Daily Pakistan Urdu
