Comments about Vartika Pandey
The DEVOURERS Of ECSTASY
Deserts shall not have a foliage by mild showers.
Gods let rain fall on them who may bloom flowers.
But mine shall always be a crimson, blood-drenched hand
For my fate not lies in garlands, not desert sands.
Oh! My ecstasy has been murdered and devoured upon,
So I shall reside in the ravages of ghastly haunts.
How do I address the predators of my own bliss?