19 November 2009

When such solitude becomes

Shades of red are nowhere
Flowers bloom after a hundred century
Smiles are scarce and fright abounds.

Yellow sunny morning
Butterflies, cardinals and squirrels
Are not in sight, even in periphery.

Excitement, glee, fondness, bliss
Are replaced by winter-cold fear
The whole sky is enveloped in darkness.

Abundant humid desert and barren wasteland
Are playgrounds for ragged kids,
Whose laughters are taboo.

Pristine dark abodes jail the most
Soul-less faces, who were marked for death
Leaving nothing, anything to boast.

Sans a single hope to rise
Without chances to cope
Just the suchness of solitude.

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