Hardik Rustagi

The pictures,Like fine paper,With ink prints on it,Or like light waves,Travelling to your eyes,Seeping deep

Woke up for work after a long holiday,Stepped out of room for fresh air,Shit, what

My heart, Wrapped in a cocoon, Bundled in feelings, Mixed together, Like the colours on the wings

I like to cause pain to myself, but not by knives or a blade, but