there are some hard truths,
we often fail to believe
rather we succeed to forget
we are made of clay....
yes clay, i mean it
molded to be a wonder called human
still u feel reluctant to walk barefoot
feeling the mud itself is dirty for you! !
i am no exception
the extreme of identity crisis
the thought that disturbs u and me
we are clay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem