Knocking on doors at three in the night no one seemed to sleep
Looking at them, the corners of that dingy room creeped.
Their faces of different colors but the same robes they wore
Moving swish swashing they seemed to be dancing on a silent tune
Running finding poaching taking whatever they could
Absence of smiles, absence of mirth only pinging absolvent bliss.
Indifferent to pleasure indifferent to pain
They hid behind themselves the Ables and Cains
Merging together blobs of tiny paints
Significantly insignificant not registering any taints
They all had same shadows crisscrossed and mazed
The silence that covered them disrupted all grace
Humming a voice that resonated all the sounds
Somewhere between noise and a loud shout
They couldn’t be read they couldn’t be understood
Life happened around them and unfeelingly they stood.
Kriti Upadhyay
