by Aman Mittal
a few words to empty my mind

It has been four days since the sun had seen my woe. Misery is a mistress, a sickly mistress, who has but a single thorn which is enough for a man to die who has been in love with her. But I thank thee angry god that I never had such an emotion in me. If its a emotion.

Love how it feels, I never felt. It is like an other world to me which is quite far from where I am now. People do fall in love and they speak of it as if it is eternal. They describe love as a godlike Romans rage which they desire intensely. ‘Without love you’re just a dull hero of a spoiled war.’

I envy them not. At least they’re being practical about it. Some of them are. I feel I am just in despair, but I won’t quit the stage.


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