In the dark alleys of my mind
They run about.
Sometimes lost, sometimes found.
Sometimes emerging faintly through the dark
Suppressed below they try to break through
Suppressed down the ages, they try to
Reassess their identity
Regressive attitude have marked their entity
Blood is still oozing out from the deep slit…
A sheaved hand,
Few gapping mouth,
There was a blast here…
Eyes no more close to sleep
I hear the groaning
Neither it speaks of it pains-