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.
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