The silent times.

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My ode to the special indelible quiet moments remain so precious.I do not snivel about the moments that eat me like a parasite.The world seems like the uncatchable green grass of the other half,the drizzling of the rain appears the inflicts of wounds slowly burdening my pain felt,no bliss nurtured.My eyes carry that unresolved umpteen questions,no answers I get yet perplexing  opinions formed.

Maybe I got numb or carried away?Or there is this lost wisdom that fails to strike my mind bravely as I may say.I see the stars above,full of zeal and colour,want to grab their flabbergasted vigour.Then I come back to my senses only to know,my hands ain’t appropriate for thy glitters;for mine are meant to create my own flicker.


The sound of my Silence.

Anna Razumovskaya:
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I tried to be that jubilant leaf that adorns the flower,the fresh dew due to which morning looks brighter,my rambling was like the gold that sparkled and the breezy air in which everyone basked in..

As for now,all that is faded and all that remains is my sound of silence.Could you hear me if I go numb or dissipate?Let me tell you how crumble my heart is.

In the deep wounds of past,I hugged myself yet again,collected and recollected my bliss,still the colours look faded, still the silence takes me to paradise.

Don’t know what this joy is as I flourish my sound of silence..maybe unheard by you but grabbed by my heart,louder is the pain and the emptiness in which I had drowned so let me sit near my peace and get lost in the state of stupefaction.