A Morbid Prayer
3:57 AM | Author: G-Joe

Till now, the lonely dawn weeps on -

Thinking of how the world broke into pieces;

Faces that have names can be left alone to live…

Only if I cease to sleep even on a tired night…

Still, will our shores begin building the

Bridges on stimulating slogans?

The unwilling swallow, the mysterious sands will

Be imprisoned into the ribs of a dead city, in some

Unexplored corner on this planet. Wouldn’t anybody

Dictate the consequences then?

Wouldn’t the meaningless talking grow?

Time told us to go on, though Time (it seems) is

Like a boat made of paper; someone even sails it.

Nevertheless, the night that has its moon

From the memory keeps on drizzling dew drops

On the fields of grief with calm affection as if,

The innocent infant will come again from the uterus

Of honesty.

-Here? …

-May be…