Buried Secret

1 hour ago

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some rules are unwritten. Everyone understand them. This poem begins when someone walks away from it.

Moral murmured like scripted lines,

conveyed until it became unrecognisable,

peacefully I wander without trace of pain.

The affliction still lingers,

customs swirled with the air,

comfort by the comfort of saying,

but unbothered by people’s raw work.

Silence grew heavy,

I found myself between being measured in millennia,

morn of unity came like winter,

yet only one was taught,

how to enjoy the weather.

Behold the same routine to challenge,

the unopened dreams,

stitched together in colourful threads,

erasing the ink of the one’s narrative,

stepping into the unmapped silence.