Monday, April 20, 2020


The city seems peculiarly quiet,
The roads have become an abode of peace,
Nature is nurturing,
But at grim cost,
We must call it an apocalypse
or fate,
Freedom and liberty are now
Lost,
But people still preaching hate,
We are desirous to end our sorrows,
But, I guess, we would risk our lives again tomorrow,
We must seek to eradicate it all,
Because it's our temporary solutions that are the root cause of sorrow,
Let's hope everything will get well soon,
And we again could see the wheat fields glittering by the shine of the moon.

-Aryan Vishwakarma

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