An unsung melancholia...

That  ghetto of thoughts...

Stinks with the unwashed-

emotional lesions,

Spread around the darkness-

Deep in that dying heart.

The walls of veins-

all scratched and tattered.

An urge. 

For the freedom from self.

Coyly smiling at the pain-

That assaulted the tears.

Who is butchering the light?

A hope that once existed!

When all beings rise up 

With that rising sun.

 A fear hides behind that corner.

In that isolated-

Ghetto of thoughts.

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Pictures credit:

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