Clean bags and neat books symbols the first day of a school.
and your attendance was to pay attention on me. Like it's holy for me met
So these hard walls
melt on my lips when I kiss you
and my imagination goes
a little wild
I need is a little rain to cry,
Before the shroud helps me to fly,
No,don't blame me,its not that I never tried,
With each try, one by one veins dried,
When I was brought here,
I had a little eyes with ocean blue stare,
That were to wonder the beautiful earth,
Have admired too less since the time of birth
That were once enchanted by sights of dreams,
Are now the one sobbing silent screams,
In this castle of dark,
I'm not the one parked,
All of us, are common a like,
Some lost there sight like me,
Some voice were set free,
Most served as fodder to accident,
No voice was left to repent,
It is a trap,
I just want a shroud to my soul dry,
All I need is a little drop to wet me whole,
And let me flow,
Taking me to the black hole.
Prompt - September, but the leaves aren't dry
Staggering September, sets its steps
in marijauna of greyish brown mulberries
Like saten is out of hell
to address the audience in chaos.
Lethal tiaras of darkness hovers
s o a k i n g
cottons and keratin
in marshes of equator.
The evaporated love that fumed in last
winters with a leftover
rose amid folds of the quilts
like enigmatic season
with no symbols to dry.
Another Jo, to survive the hoping
that blooms in drying showers.
The love and its rose would
kill fetish pneumonia
to breed in the October heat.
© Jaya Chaudhary