to ponder the flow of scenes-like film in the head
the emptiness that no water in the dark round is about to shed
the ponderings of ”does occurrences is really suppressed or just drawing an outline to leave a mark and be it?”
does loss of adrenaline caused the gray vision of view or it’s just we were just agonized by an instance?
the bruise, the aches, the wounds aren’t visible and that’s the cruel dimension
the urge of “shoulds”
the “shoulds” that is not just like a blink of eye to confer, to attain.
the hope of being ascertain is still on the street of mind
the hope of ”atleasts”
the hope of ”light atleasts”
the statement of ”am i really a museum of grief?”
Apparently, the certain hope is there.
nevertheless, it’s called “falsehope”
falsehope having atleast
attaining the least of inferred feast.
shesshy 