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Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh PalMonica is an Indian writer living in Canada, passionate about capturing life’s quiet complexities through raw and simple words. Her poetry reflects the unfiltered beauty of human emotions, memories, and introspection, inviting readers to find meaning in the ordinary and the overlooked. With a deep appreciation for life’s subtle moments, Monica weaves honesty and vulnerability into her work, creating a space where readers feel seen and understood.Read More...
Monica is an Indian writer living in Canada, passionate about capturing life’s quiet complexities through raw and simple words. Her poetry reflects the unfiltered beauty of human emotions, memories, and introspection, inviting readers to find meaning in the ordinary and the overlooked. With a deep appreciation for life’s subtle moments, Monica weaves honesty and vulnerability into her work, creating a space where readers feel seen and understood.
Read Less...Achievements
“And when the roots are watered,
I’ll f ly my human soul
into the finest blooming tree
and live in it till summer lasts.
And with winter,
I’ll find the narrowest cave
and hibernate like bears.
And if the seasons change,
I’ll disguise into winds.
Oh, the things I’ll do
to escape this life and still live,
to still live in traded tragedies.
“And when the roots are watered,
I’ll f ly my human soul
into the finest blooming tree
and live in it till summer lasts.
And with winter,
I’ll find the narrowest cave
and hibernate like bears.
And if the seasons change,
I’ll disguise into winds.
Oh, the things I’ll do
to escape this life and still live,
to still live in traded tragedies.”
“And when the roots are watered,
I’ll f ly my human soul
into the finest blooming tree
and live in it till summer lasts.
And with winter,
I’ll find the narrowest cave
and hibernate like bears.
And if the seasons change,
I’ll disguise into winds.
Oh, the things I’ll do
to escape this life and still live,
to still live in traded tragedies.
“And when the roots are watered,
I’ll f ly my human soul
into the finest blooming tree
and live in it till summer lasts.
And with winter,
I’ll find the narrowest cave
and hibernate like bears.
And if the seasons change,
I’ll disguise into winds.
Oh, the things I’ll do
to escape this life and still live,
to still live in traded tragedies.”
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