Tonight I Shall Write

Tonight, I think, I’ll write a few lines. As the clock strikes the dead of night And the thick darkness is slowly swallowing me up Nothing but the inner screams of cancerous depression Rise within me; I think I am about to issue a necessary dream-shelled poem. The entire world sleeps now; even the nocturnal Owl is contemplating a siesta, some glow worms Twinkling intermittently; a distant window is about to close Its dusty wings; a group of workers are returning To their tired homes I think it’s high time that I should pen some lines. Because now I feel a little shiver waving through The muscles and veins of my body As I keep looking at the insane blade of the knife Which has just made love with my helpless wrist.