By Walking Towards The Tired Road Of The Earth
My taste of laugh ended to the nearest
Available turns of rivers of myths
Tearing apart the blanket of mist
Of the jealous woods.
I startled and tripped
On Autumn Crocus of Anguish.
There I went-
My crushed soul went
But no new tears of surprise dropped
Over my freshly grown Viyella of hope.
Walking by the fatigued road of the Earth
My thin shaky hanged arms.
Quiet marks of sleepless nights
Got filled with cups of opium
Transforming my mental ceramics
Into a sparkly tinsel stream.
Brushing past through the passive grass
My breath was coming back
To inhale the lovely smell
Lurking out of my newly wedded book
Restoring complete insanity
To acquire the evaporated
taste of this enduring journey again.