Finding Love In A Revolution
T/W: a not-so-poetic rant ahead. The shrouded hope flows in our cascade of life. This world has people like heartful poems and hurtful elegies. Together, growing like twins where one occupies more space in the cot and the other fights to gain some space. Ever since your birth, you see this world fight. People consider their life a war but when they lose, they blame their fortune and not their believes. People ask "How do we fight pain, wound and trauma?" But how many of the people answers with a "You don't fight them. They become a part of you."? Maybe its just a handful of people, far lesser than a teen's hair fall. Hope itself is a big word. Sometimes, it is just like the surname of a girl. You never know if it remains the same. And, when grief replaces hope, it just becomes another of your school notebooks, wrapped in royal brown, but inside, homes your poorly written classwork, for which the world blames you and your parents and never themselves for