It Has To End


The silent footsteps
still haunt my nights
all the dreams
all the questions
a whispered presence

universe of my existence
a meddled up story of hope
walk through the enact of times of yore
where will it halt who knows

colors and patterns the outline
patch of red and some jade
films of late grimy age
restless restlessness I need it to end

moon it always strikes a chord to scare
sun it pricks the wound for each once
an escape from a sequence
desperate for it I must

it’s not a scum’s  ode
few  tales are a gaffe
he  singled out a wrong brush to describe
eraser  can’t  undo it has to burn .

-khushi

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