Random avatar

abhishek87

  • yet my dear did not come home!

    Right above the western horizon, red was shining the grand old sun, The winds in the trees made a run, as trees swayed in rhythm of unison... yet my dear ...

    • Poetry
    • Lyrical
    2 min read


When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.
— Euripides