The shadowy room is still around
Carrying with it the rusted memories
And with cynical smile
It welcomes the presence of another soul, again.
Many were the occupants
Until one by one snubbed by the room
With its gray spongy old walls with cracks
Set gloomy mood in desperation.
The cobwebs speaks of time passed by
The spiders in relentless pursuit of construction
To tell a tale of the shadowy room
And the decrepit hell that lies within.
The agitations amidst the gray walls
Kills every soul who take shelter therein
The eerie silence accompanying the agitations
A stalking ghost rarely noticed by many.
Gnawing deep into this shadowy room
Strand of dire distress breeds suicidal feelings
One second is all that one can expect
Before, the shadowy room snatches the soul.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 180509.
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ReplyDeletewe create our reality with our way of seeing things...and there are two ways to see it..either the shadow or the light...I tend to see the light, as shadows change with changing lights,
ReplyDeleteI find this poem very depressing, Cyclop...perhaps my mood, you penned it well though..
wishes,
devika