With every throbbing pulse
I feel the fading convulse,
slow down encephalon,
I know my hour's come.
Tussled throughout ma'life,
I know the war says goodbye.
Dear cruor don't dry up soon,
indubitably you will be a boon.
the tranquil air i can smell,
the serene face goes to sleep,
leaving behind all the weep.
The acinus in forehead feels light,
and it drags me to the unknown nights.
© Shree Mukherjee