Sharper than knives are these words of yours
But the night offers few terrors of its own.
How can I resist my own destruction?
She strolls in the sun
She laughs…
My own thoughts blot me
I am not even a proper fool.
I stumble and contradict.
Oh! How I wish I were a buffoon,
I’d keep silent for days
And admire the great events.
I’d admire the salesmen
And swoon over some locked chest
That keeps hidden a prickly heart.
You out do yourself with this one Tuhin ....Brilliant :)