.
.
.
Voices are made of words,
Words made up of letters,
The letters are 26,
Yet the words don't seem to end,
The noise continues,
It consumes us,
It rots our brains,
In a way,
Where we can't come out,
At the end,
In our memories,
Faces don't stay,
Words do,
Noises do.
.
.
.
-Krishna Parmar
YOU ARE READING
Little Lit-fucks [Unfinished Forever]
Poetry[Here are some of the poems and snippets written by me. Every part is a standalone.] . "You were a priority I couldn't have." "I was a priority you wouldn't want." . "Finding you was a choice, Falling in love was my hell." . "Dedication; These are...