Prose 2

The love within us is nothing more than ominous secret fantasy, a fiction we wish to come true, something that has evolved with our own existence or the case might be different as if love never existed. What is it that appeals to our senses, evolving into hate; becoming more conspicuous?

Hatred has grown and every word or an act is adding up further into its upsurge, in a pursuit to materialize our dreams; have we become most dehumanized version of ourselves or have we never realized what it feels or means to be a Human. Lust, hate and fantasies have turned into an optimal for the human nightmare and love has taken a backseat from this meaningless devour; a detour out of mortal minds and hearts.

To be continued…


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