The Trail

Blood drops as i walk, leave behindwith twisted, torn, scraps of paper soaking in the red,fairies and god mothers and gods themselves failed,there stuck i am at and no choices to make.Real and sad the music goes on,queer and weird and fuzzy. But in there.Random i speak, My words don’t aim,but my heart is free and decisions are thick.

Ashwin. K“A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.”