By-Aarush Deora
Oh solemn singer
How I hate a soundproof room
The words shiver
Stacked in a corner
They jump
They clatter
Then slump
And slither.
Hollowness thus beats
Against eardrums
They don't budge.
Oh solemn singer
How I hate a soundproof room
The terrifying silence
Pats me gently
The words in my head
Still make no sound.
The music
That doesn't hug your soul
Oh solemn singer
Your song grows ever so distant
The melody crumbles
The notes tremble
No barbaric overtones
Just a wisp of a memory
And now
It’s gone.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn