The Act

The wind echoed inside the hollow heart of darkness,
You were reduced to a song,
You kept playing and playing but brought no solace to yourself,
There was a small fire that you lit to keep yourself cold,
But the darkness tugged at it over and over again,
You tried to act indifferent but couldn't,
By the end of the first day, acting yourself was acting up.

by Pinaki Dewan

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