My parents named me a very common name. You google it and thousands of Prashant Singh show up. They had unknowingly registered me to their very idea of normalcy. Maybe they secretly wished me to be like everyone else. But I am not everyone else.
We are the children of now, Written in impatience. We can’t wait for a day to come; That day might never come. Tomorrows will be todays someday, Let’s not waste another day And get it done right away. If you wish to save some, You can
There isn’t a body around me. No one I could call mine. No one who could call me his. Seems everything is crouching away from me, cringing its claws into the hollows of self-absorption. I have seen people do that. Forget you! Like you never