November grey sky over the roofs..
Shaded by the shady shroud
Stretched upto a never ending line...
Grown up from the imprisoned lives
Skinny, slag... sorrowful awes...
Their heads bound, never widen up
Their legs frozen in the cold of summer...
And they sleep over the heep of ashes
All the dreams ever seen by those eyes...
Windup in the fogg of misfortune
Weedy existence they ever lived...
They are in the shut window grave
They are blind of the ways grown far...
life never stuck, their faces gone pale
They all dumb or deaf they never spoke...
CRY!! Ah!, they left that, so before
©naikqurat.
N