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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Numb

Let a bunch of people break your heart..
Get a crowd to laugh while you start.
Let a mob muffle you to squeal..
Get an audience trapped under your veil.
Let innocence withstand on it’s own..
Get bravery engraved in your bone.
Let doors open to coward eyes..
Get people to stare all over your lies.
Let walls be penetrable..
As strong pillars get vulnerable.
Let freedom lurk..
Silence sulk.
Memories collapse..
And a mere touch get invisible.
Stand right there..
As the light goes dimmer.
Barging into the darkest dungeon..
Is the fear left alone.
Conscience pitch black..
Emotions succumbed and gullible.
You cease defining moments..
Leading your way to the incorrigible.

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