The world is crumpled enough

It’s difficult reading the silence from choked feelings

An unwelcome transformation of the insignificance 

This silence isn’t neutral- indignant and chants insolence

Words inflamed while being stripped of meanings

The uncomfortably folded sentiments 

Being scolded by the inherently affected minds

Naked words haunt the pristine feelings every day

Pages leaden with incriminating notes 

There is no chance of turning over the pages

Scribbles accumulate, giving a sinewy look

Finally, crumpled like the world

Playing the useless tracks of debauched songs

Over barren territories, a vulgar dance

Nestled within obstinate folds

Every tomorrow is woken up to inane world

The fallacy of crumpling the world

Just an arrogant ambition of self-destruction


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