The weathered impressions emerge to trouble the soul

Determinedly tries to penetrate this life just woken up from a dream

There were only rumours about their appearances

Senses, especially the eyes seem to have visions of contradictions

These images aren’t counter reflections of a time gone awry

In reality, the moments are twisted at convenient spaces with ferocity

A delusional existence cannot be usurped by coerced consciousness

Those impressions of the continuous insults doth have signs

Shadows of nihilism transform the weather cynically


4 thoughts on “Weathered

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