Long stories,
Of my granny,
And her innocent actions,
Which used to make it more interesting?
Today we have long stories,
but do we merely have the same stories?
We have stress along with it,
And of course stories are different now,
We strive hard to share it,
But we cant ………..
Do we?????
We show we are happy,
But no we are not ?
A demon full of falsehood,
Killing inside us……
