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#11


There was a time when her wings glowed.
It was home to the shining fireflies.
Its fluttering pierced into the ears of folks.
The bright colours of the wings always created the rainbow around her.
Little did she know that the wings too would die, die into deeper solitude.
Her whole world circulated around those wings which carried her into the realms of unspoken realities.
But little did she know that the night was always jealous of her wings.
She glowed bright as Sirius in the night that every matter included her light and every being wished to be with her.
Little did she realized that there were powers of darkness that could bring her down. Down into the hell were pessimistic waters flowed and from  where the reverse rains of apocalypse poured.
Broken and disappearing, with dead wings and dead mind she lies immersed in the height of winter, desparate to find home at the least  in a tangled hair!


A.C

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