Wrath

I feel this ever looming wrath.
It comes from within.
Sure to destroy everything in its path.
But as this soul would come out.
The whisps of smoke will arise.
Rotten a cadaver only will be perceived.
A thousand clouds gone by.
I never move.
Transfixed a gaze at nothingness.
A gaze is not.
It is but denial.
A world gone ahead.
In its tracks a reminder of the haste.
Nothing.
Empty; of no importance.
Denied a past.
A past forgotten, a present delirious, a future nonexistent.
Light does fall on my face today.
But dimmed a sun tomorrow will beg for forgiveness.

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Rathish Sharma
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Very well.

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