Graves dug under my eyes,
And like spirits I wander at night,
So still and lost, paralysed I drown,
Immovable soul, body turning around.
Frantic rolling on the floor,
Yet my self is still stuck tight,
A night so long, despotic and rough,
The moon shines black, void of light.
An anxious cry for the break of dawn,
Urging my soul to wake up at-last,
Clenching my threads, pulling with brawn,
I am but a dead self in an anxious leather.
By Utkarsh Yadav