bayonet not transpired,
dried and augmented to ruinous prongs...
benevolent touch , ravined the ravenous
as long as it grew carnations though the hands of the unstoppable prolonged.

thou who witnessed will visit the lane,
Cutting all succoured hands Insearch of individuality as self torment ,
in fear of abberant retribution screams will be retched but words won't until the cold
sufficed in vein.

one who gleaned knows the end , one who
reigns a blotched heart foresees the act of censure of own,
vows to self to give the all wanted seclusion and fervour though he's made to burn his human loaf to free his bird, to free his unknown


© Aniket