Had I thought twice before I let him take you away, you would, perhaps, be perched on some giant tree, hidden amidst foliage. That was not the case to be. The moment he bid goodbye to me, I cried – literally, but it was too late.
Of what use are those gates, if I throw it open for my refugees to be taken away? Did I make my fence a slaughterhouse? It’s as good as one, isn’t it?
Words – they are just tears on paper.
Regret – it’s useless.
Amogh M S