Whispers, the voiceless silence.
Heard as walls within our souls speak.
Emptying gentle winds into trashcans of absence
Shadowed memories are then made bleak..
Meticulously we drink, broken tears.
with the teaspoon of denial,
Weaving baskets of our fears.
With ribbons soaked in dew of reprisal
And when in want, void becomes the norm.
And blue neon lights, illumines the heart..
Vague and dim, our foresight looses its form
To see the rift before our path.
So in solitude we sit, on fences of insanity..
Ghosted into shadowed memories
Vomiting vegetables of our sanity.
On grudging cares of erred history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem