Choleric Days

One has to pray that the days do not become too choleric

For night suffers from a negative temper and emaciated from it

The shadows look hideous when they hum painfully of spoilt moments

Earsplitting echoes trigger an agonizing hallucination in the mind

Wronged in so many ways, the abused days and night seek revenge

Indelible smudges of intemperance look like blue patches on frail skin

Denied moments have caused the sinewy look; the decrepitude is real

One world suffers from a delusional hope of recovery in spite of abuse


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