In an isolated room,
cold as D day's dooms,
feeling the guitar string with my fingertips,
hoping something will hit the perfect pitch,
those deep notes of my heart would be heard,
those unframed sentences would make some meanings,
this night so quite,
my heart beat is syncing with my breath,
maybe it's is the last rite of death,
voice is trembling, eyes are teary,
I hate to admit this but I can dance on the rhythm of dreary,
feeling lost but I am there to find me,
sometimes downcast, sometimes angst, sometimes in my own glee,
©
©shrutid
S