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Writer's pictureworld language

Abode's Night


You seem to have noticed

That in the distance, far beyond the edge of the world

Does a pearly desert of a garden you call home exist

To whom the drought has been one hell of a company.

Come home, it is about time that you casually ambled your way

back into the nostalgia that you knew you could always count on.

Follow the trail of your saddened father's liquor bottles

And be the rain to the holy meadow you grew up in

Bring tears of joy, they haven’t been feeling anything lately

Acknowledge that the world isn’t a live one without you.


- Neha Thapar

F.Y.B.A




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