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