In this book, I chronicle the adventures of three perpetually confounded time travelers, celebrate a static, lull of bare existence free of discomfort but also ecstasy. The collection point fingers and blame, while also criticize that blame. This collection talks about high concepts and low concepts, outrage and mediocrity. But most of all, it tries to be creative. It is chaotic, it is warm, it is disturbing, it is inconsistent, it is rough around the edges ye
It is no shame in admitting, after bidding adieu to a whole year and one grade, my creations have surely matured. From the larva of an amateurish understanding of what poetry is, beyond mere rhyming words, I consider this collection to be a memoir of my metamorphosis into a pupa. Still not the march to the highest level, it is all about the journey, the metamorphosis. I was previously awestruck by emotions from a distance, and now, I seek to comment on the nat
I started writing poems as a hobby, which has now developed into a kind of addiction in such a way that it hurts my conscience when I, due to any reason, fail to write one. But, an even more significant motive is the influence of some topics, the impact of some aspects of human society and emotions, the effect of beauty, tragedy and noteworthy anecdotes. More often than not, the cause of penning down my thoughts into rhyming illustrations are a kind of medium