Black.

The olden days swiftly looms
like the monsoon clouds,
so adamant; neither it disperses nor it pours.
Humid and suffocates
like the mighty gush of lungful east wind
that carts pain, heartbreak, loss, and death;
the death of someone dear.
Sometimes I feel what I do is a mere repetition of
what I did yesterday or for that the day before.
Heart afraid of swapping thoughts with strangers.
I choke my neck with my own quivering hands
to abate the strong intermittent anguish and pain.
I can’t anymore shield the light from the forces of dark
I shiver with the thought of
even a single lapse from my end;
If at all it happens, it will be complete dark
like the unknown expanse of blackest skies
of a starless night, a creepy dead night.
Lord! I am afraid of the night;
I am afraid of the absence of light.

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