Deep scars of deaths

Listening to every cricket’s chirps
With no one around, taking deep breaths,
While gazing at stars lifting my eye brows,
I walk in the backyard of my farm house.

The coldness in the still air
Takes me into a world of despair
Between those lines of fairy tales
Of grandfather’s in his living days.

Those fairies in my dead memories arise
Come alive in front with hues and cries
Half dead beheaded monsters embrace
My curved shivering body, nearing my face.

Slowly closing my eyes I ponder
If I’ll die out of this killing fear?
Oh! Grandpa, my dear dead.
Come back and take me to bed!

Your unfinished stories of deaths
Every night engulf my breaths
I don’t want to fear, I don’t want to pray
I don’t see you near to out me from dismay!

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