Priyanka Roy

February 26, 1995 - India
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An unfinished business

The sun overhead does not shine bright anymore.
There is this depressive halo around it.
Winds were comparatively cold than it was last Christmas.
I don't remember where I lost sight of my shawl of warmth.
Monsoon was harsh too.
It tasted brackish.
It rained tears.
I knew these were just signs
Because I ignored them for long.
I am losing my battle.
I feel defeated. Already.
This struggle of living is no more thrilling to me.
I would rather want to finish.
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