Untitled

Into the bylanes of cramped psyche
Ever sharpening the undull scythe
Silence was getting terribly shrill
For those thoughts making a voiceless drill
Haunted house surrenders it’s horror
All right! He will make no more furore
Repressed odour of gore
How horribly the sense did it tore
Burying the voiceless hiccups
Under the cup of his palm
Now his face is decreed to exile
Crushing the familiarity awhile
He doodles him on a patient canvas
To unwire his wired sanity
©jeyforyou

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