See, the pain is spilling around
in the chest and overseas!
Seems, the heart has broken
Funny, it didn’t know when to retreat.

Or may be it did!
Should have listened to instincts?
The brain feels numb;
let spilling poetry act as pills.

Sobreity exists,
pulling sanity along.
Don’t call me
still - speaking as if asking to belong

If you must do
Then know, here I lay
inspite of hundred boulders
with which your silence chose to play.