My latte is getting colder,
while his cigarette is lit up all again,
Commonly, English has three tenses,
I plead with all of them.
Now my silence is screaming,
and warning to shape me in a breaking storm.
I’m trying to stitch my bleeding wound,
but my tears aren’t pausing,
Nothing is helping me,
to come out of this hurricane.
Darkness is acquiring my world,
as if fucking owns it,
and turning me out into a savage.
Our pictures are getting fade,
just like our good old days,
Oh! the bad old days.!