Your Villain Has Come

The ghosts of evening sang a song.
A song of my cabbage life.
When the trees get tickled by the licking leaves,
The houses shine in the lamp shades,
Walking all alone,i wander with my playlists,
Aimless as an owl, spreading the pessimistic winds.
I see horror hiding behind the oak tree,
Reluctant to come out, it crawls away to darkness.
The roads with day's dirt and trodden stones,
Seems to howl at me with each footsteps.
When the dreams of youth form congeries of mess in the sky,
I spread my arms and hugged me,
At a night when glorious love songs pass from windows.

I look for a drum to destroy the silence of the night,
to wake up the sleeping heroes.
Here, Your villain has come.
Welcome me with boredom and bitterness.
Spot me in the darkness of depression,
Before I kill you with my inglorious stories and agitating songs.
I can divide your home and shed blood.
Bewitched by the noise of my drum,
Your children will follow me,
Like Pied Piper, I will take them to the cave of supreme sorrows.
And when they come back as carriers,
If happiness is all that matters you,
Will you welcome them or shun them?

A.C

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