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Comments about Archchi Ajita
Memories, just like razors
Have shed layers of my soul.
I know not where the shattered ones
'd ever find themselves in whole.
Memories, like thorns on a dying rose,
No fragrance hovers, no Colors left
Pinching, pricking, piercing through
Those incessantly fading souls.
Memories, so dark, impenetrable
No questions asked, no reasons left.
What was in the past, was never meant to last.
The future seems yet so far.
Memories lie, deceive, they scare
Those tender hopes, the labouring souls,
This monstrous guilt of the ...