Sagar Arora Poems

We are blinded in tranquillity,

Surfacing the judgment from the canvas of the lost.
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A daughter burned within the womb,

Born beautiful, yet barely alive,
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I realize they never settle,

I realize they never look up to the sky,
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From this word, I breathe to lie,

To the world an illusion and to me, myself.
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We are gently written in the sky,

Like the wind, escaping the empty minds,
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Alive like the blood, Compelling as the rose.

It is all a simple rhythm to move along,
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It was threaded to be this way,

A story that sang of their sins,
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