We have flown above the sky,
Watching the demons of our own,
Pitying on us,
What to conclude?
We are like 'half-story' written,
A song that can only echo,
But we communicated on strings,
When we were dreaming on the sea shores,
A new Atlantis,
Seemed distant,
The profecy became tired,
We ended in a position,
That will either dry or breath us,
Back to life.
Kunjal Sharma
