A pair of sisters,
You worn a twin pair of red socks
And grey skirts,
Teasing the boys scout,
Two of you
And five of them
In display,
The pink head comb on your hair
Is adorable,
Your sister had it too,
You smile, dragging a pink Barbie bag,
Loaded and heavy in your little hands,
I couldn’t stop myself replaying
You again in my head,
You were struck by the Christmas snow
Which are just shredded polystyrene bubbles
Blown into the air
Beyond the glass.This night
Is the night of death,
You immortalize me
With pellets and daggers;
I have flesh of scars,
And wounds of burns;
I resemble the pits of hell,
I breathe the fire of indictment,
My knees sank below the waist
Bowing to Earthstore;
Tears rusted my cheeks, ribs and femur;
Despair laid in blood,
Visions were buried and let decayed,
Guns and grenades replace roses and honours,
I was as trivia as runaway smoke in the air.It’s silent tonight,
Contrarian to those ruddled rain nights,
Before in autumn
Last year.
The junction of my life,
The crossroads a mile in my neighbourhood,
Are still in bigotry,
The lamp lights, traffics,
Indifferent.
Wherefore then am I
In the middle of this
Alone with my coffee black aroma,
A blank day affront.
The morbid dry spell,
Spew frustration till dawn descends,
No car bridles the street, no gutsy wind pushing gossips,
I’m just a spectator of a dead night.
It was a festive week,
Perhaps everybody was still in breaks,
The masses’ mood somber, they need another good rest,
Expectation is an overused word, surprises would be speculatory.
I kept myself awake,
The whole night was restive of silence,
The ghosts do not need a flicker traffic light,
Who would need to cross the street in huddle tonight.
No rains tonight as songs for easy slumber,
Observing only the besotted traffic in
The street lamps that replaced the inglorious night moon,
Ghosts’ relative would also be staying homebound too tonight.