Prevails the monotonous rhythm ,

whence drags the mind

the fettering body to duties unattended

lonesome soul

tired limbs

dreary mind

how much to pull and get off the plight…

a page is torn

lying on the floor

it mocks every tile of the loss

and cries heaven

to flood the earth more…

numb the senses, mute is the voice

Alas! The wails of a dying soul aren’t heard outside.



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