Could quietus, come, quieter than, this
Treading, on toes, to steal, their souls
Shrouded, in a smile, her mortal, kiss
For those, who squirm, o’er, life’s smoldering coals!
She forgets, not, forgotten ones
Undone by past, estranged, with present
Saints, of their sins, measuring dimensions
Of life’s rosary, with, death’s sacrament!
They’re just, as same, in façades, of kin
As the mobs, who wait, with rusting nail
To kiss them, adieu, in their, cold coffin
Forlorn, like the psalm, of a nightingale!
They stare, from blue-queue, thru splintered eyes
Who’s next, whose doom, Thanatos recites
Whose requiems, are their, last lullabies
The Children, Of Their, Looming Nights!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra
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