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.
Copyright © Manya Saxena | Year Posted 2018
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