Lost

By Neha Basumatary

The venom of separation

Illuminates a mind newborn.

The wait vanishes with dried up tears

Dies in the distort of utterance

Scrambled into the set of fire.

The empty body struggles within,

A stab remains sunken

Like an antique deeply submerged.

The living death alive for the world

With smiles built infinitesimal

Multitude burst of yearning.

The laughter reckons gloominess

With the discovery of restored strength.

The long journey alarm fears

Breaking the confidence of trust

Shrunken by the thrust of expectations.

A lesson from the dearest

Echoed for a thousand times

By Neha Basumatary