Manya Saxena Poet ABC

Tremors

It's 2 am by the clock
And my weary heart 
Kept Forlorn on the shelf. 
The dust crystallising it 
And adding a layer for 
Me to not feel, but I do. 
Gently, I pick it up, 
Not so gentle, it feels 
Oh, my desolate heart,
What do you need?
Like a thousand steps,
It sinking down the drain,
Like the windless summer, 
Choking in its own pain. 
I wish I had a hammer,
Or will perhaps, 
To cut the knot that 
Holds so tight.
It's 3 am by the clock, 
Mercy, oh lord,  
End this 
Forsaken night.

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