>≫≫Mourning Posture

Call on me the celebrating alphabets, call on me the rainy days Illusion through rain and storm, floats without any hints the sound of words get imbalanced in the gray matter Creating a psychological crisis, but forgetting all deceptions my fingers create old tunes again and I go back at the source with iron determination To appear mended after every break, soul gets astonished In the night soaked dark while sea gathers foam, and the waves go tumultuous. In the sigh of wind i get a brief relief tearing apart every blocking when i see the smiling faces.