The winter of hatred has set in.
The icicles of indifference have been formed
Deep inside cold hearts, piercing souls like splinters.
Love is losing its hold; hatred is spreading its tentacles,
Whispering that the harsh winter will be prolonged,
And wait for the spring is futile at the moment.
Broken hearts, broken trusts, broken strengths
Fail to get mended.
What is more progressive in such situations-
Bitter struggle for survival in native region
Or migration in search of warmth?
The questions that have always intrigued humankind.