Sanya Khetarpaul

An easy-sleazy simpleton full of learnings and love for philosophy and all things musical. <3 🙂

He Was Our Martyr

For whom even Hell is sealed.His dreams now shut in eyesHis putrid body now craves the grave His livid face now haunts his kin

Of an infinite desire

Been to moon. Been to sunCouldn't find a source to shun    The ailing skin          The blackening veins                The lightning bloodThose seeked

The voices in a forest

The voices in a forest