Published February 4, 2015 by Shreya Rajvanshi

After an endless night of
Blinking and moving and
Tossing and turning,
Of hardly dreaming,
And all the naked images
That he was seeing
Of claws and marks,
Shadowed by the grey and dark
Clouds, he stood up,
And swallowed the little,
Round, bitter pills,
To smoothen the edges,
And mend the broken ridges, and
Then finally drowned in a sweet
Sleep for the rest of the
Remaining night.

P.S. No, this poem by no means is a personal experience. It’s purely a work of imagination and no, I’m not going under any sort of depression.
Thank you!


12 comments on “Images.

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