Restrained Mental Impressions Poem by Santosh Misra

I cry for the fervor of your empressements
In the ice cold winter morning
With a chilled environment around.
I don't even mind missing an heat emitting fire-pot
In lieu of the generated warmth of your memory.

Your ill responses often agitate me,
Kill me as if the hounds
And adevil germinates in me
To combat your crafted atrocities.

I concentrate to obliterate,
yes obliterate
All your creeping traces of my remembrances.

I am now an adept juggler
In living with a dense ardor of winter Fog
And I care not for any warmth
For I know
The rising sun shall destroy it
Associated with my restrained mental impressions.

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