Sindhu Gatha, Author at The WFY

Tears of Pen

The writer, who was sitting to write, made a stab at the pen’s cam. Even in the hands of the

The words that falland break in the corridor.Some coals are smoking.The whole body is burning. The fragrance of the past

You and I were alone, in the nameless path of dark dumbness, when the conflicting words fell in the noiselessness of a tumultuous

Tied up the boundary of the countriesand wall the minds Flowers blooming on the borderThey have a question,for whom to

If there is love rooted in the soul…You can swim in any ocean.Can fly to the infinity of any space

Fires in rainforestsand snow freezes in sunny rivers All the rivers drained of moisturebecome the stumbling wordof the midnight wind

A word mistakeThere was a gunshot Blood for bloodThe cry of the knife The battle criesSea and airVibrating The continentsare

They tend to tear their stomachs out at night without a sense of place or time. Cursing the empty wallet

Swarms of ants dream of travelling through a dry-veined leaf. Laughed at the ants when the sun had drained all

In the eyes that are planted to the people Through the windows of the democracy Views are not clear because