• wherethecornersmeet 5w

    Kashmir is in our prayers.

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    It aches, and I pray to Him,
    I cry, and I beg Him to call me near Him.

    He cries back
    for the strings are tied to their apron.
    He tells me He loves me
    He tells me he forgives me
    He tells me I'm in His prayers
    For He's busy washing their blood
    And tears off His face.

    He spreads His hands
    And tells me to fate my strings
    I spread my hands
    And He hands me scissors.

    My clocks stop before time
    and it rains timelessly.

    My clothes, covered in blood
    My letters, their ink smudged
    Every sound is a step closer to destruction.

    I whisper, take me home.

    They took echoes away with them.

    She promised, she'd come back
    She never said they'd be carrying her on the shoulders.

    Lies strangle me before their ropes do.

    Everything's red.
    The sky's grey.

    Amma told me to love everyone.
    Her grave is deeper than humanity.

    I cry myself to sleep these days.
    I always wake up to a different place.
    I don't call it home anymore.