Shhh

The pull is on

as a paper all torn

You write first

or let us be written

It is the fall of the pawn

or a king's return

The banter makes sense

or it is just a shrewd pretence

Sly swelled years

Glutton visible in peers

My breath fumbles

as my glance stumbles

As I fail to leave an impact

You all crusade and label me

a concoct

But I am not a brew

nor a whisper

nor the mockery

or the hushed fear

Catch hold of me

cause I am all yet the tip of the spear

Count your days

cause mine are numbered too

Pull up your socks

cause I am dirty too

From head to toe

to leg to temple

I will quiver my brow

To show you the omen

A dungeon seeths and a tornado weeps

cause they know that what I feel

And once I feel

You meanest of the mean

Would forget what actually feel,feels...

~Harsha

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