For the past hour or so he stares at the wall,
dazed and confused;
He tries to read that writing on the wall,
the letters he himself wrote.
Not in a hurry, he forgot all that;
Just looking for something, on that surface flat.
He has no clue, what is written on the wall;
He can’t understand that rumbling noise all across that hall.
Some hardship eats him, distress of the heart,
baffled from that scrabble, bit by bit, he is teared apart.

The beating noise is all he hears.