Perfect sorrow

My impulse flutters

With moon’s shuffle

In butterfly wings

My thoughts travel

Fill of my veins

Trembled and muzzled

Remains in abyss

Forlorn and settled

Nothing uproars

Nothing screams

Like all stranded

In stagnated stream

Dump smell muffled

In puddle sorrow

Existence consists

Of ditched furrows

Flowing is not warm

Smiles faked charm

That seems real

Is scripted zeal

Like ever going chaos

Knowing no forego

Life seems forged

An unending lie

How much I try

Efforts end in cry………..

©ANKITA CHATURVEDI

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