Prakhar Sharma Poems

Here we go, back to the same road

Finding silence in the row and then we roar
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On the middle of a finish where the dead begins
The aura of guilt still zilch to pretend
A stepping stone leading towards the dark
Another denial picturing the rusted swings in the park
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Oh how I wish you were here, we could have been happy.
The train will lead to nothingness, the doors of truth runs on the broken tracks.
There will be a light on the floor where lay our remains, shining shattered shame.
You will move further, farther will be my catch. What about the mountains when the molehills are no more?
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May I start now before the barren land of sorrow takes away my highness?
Will it be appreciated my running away through her fields?
The horizon of our dullness, could it fulfil her gulf of numbness?
If the river is flowing along with the birds chirping, can it reach the sand of her shore? Not her virginity, but my debut can raise her hand's toast, and her lips will glitter our banished blundered beauty.
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