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
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 