Terrified I keep running,
Running away from the gaze.
Gaze which keeps on staring,
Staring at me throughout the days.
Says pass and come the nights.
Nights which crumble the sunny walls.
Walls get destroyed by horrible sights,
Sights which after I behold my heart squalls.
Squalls which echo in my body,
Body which struggles hard to bear.
Bear I The horror of sights which reach nobody,
Nobody could see nobody could hear.
I try hard to contain the death,
Death my body which corrodes.
Corrodes my body till it loses its breath,
Breath keeps reducing, keep increasing the loads.
I struggle to find a ray of hope,
Hope which wandered away on a dark moonless night.
Night in which for colours I grope,
Grope for colours in my world black and white.
YOU ARE READING
When Will the Moon Die?
PoetryIf Moon was a Child and spring his youth, He'd cry for a flower and die of sloth.
