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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

Unknown

Ears closer to his heart
While Fears settled inside the cart..
A hollow wind
And a subtle tint..
Afraid to touch
But not so much..
As eyes narrated
Worries agitated..
A free mind
Away from the grind..
Holding hands
As fingers talk..
Abrupt footsteps
Stealing a walk..
To return where
The journey stir..
Even though bleak
Couldn’t hide but speak..
Empty clouds descended
Pathways pretended..
Closing eyes gulped tears alone.
Slept dead till dawn
Till she woke up to be called Unknown.  
















Thoughts By - Pratiksha Misra

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