Get said in a circle told to be quiet
Hide in ruins possibly too wilted to be true
Run along the sphere that trembles in night
I have a blind, eschewed sleuth to linger on in the memories.
Go play the drum that repeats the laughter
Write the river – maniac in its swiftness
Blow the blue afar from its misery
You have minutes to unfurl your basking bitterness.
Let it pass in wind, to the clouds
And may you see the eyes run thunder
So you see, your lag is somewhere brittle –
it breaks as it breathes
© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2018
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