THE NUMB WEEP

Thousands of faces go up and down the street,
Milieu of people dipped in hues so deep,
On the roads travelled with pals I meet,
Capering playfully on those mettlesome beat.

On the lanes I walk, with the mob I leap,

Giggles and laughs all in one heap,
Silent I remain, to few I speak,
Often pals ask as to what secrets I keep.

With the waves of the time I frequently stride,
What keeps me benumbed is the changing tide,
For what pestered me, in the isolation I cried,
Makes them believe that something I hide.

With few I smile, with few I fight,
I make them laugh, to them I chide,
For those sullen griefs my tears have dried,
To curtain my thoughts, alone I strive.

Often on the shores and in the dunes of sand,
Closing my fist, barefoot I stand,
Holding the fate engrossed in my hand,
Concealing the secrets of that isolated land.

Being the lone traveller I do ensure,
What all griefs and pain I endure,
I dig in pitfalls on those isolated shore,
For its true that pile of secrets I store.

No more pals ask as to what secrets I keep,
Little do they know about the nightmares in my sleep,
Of those silent faces, into their minds I peep,
Smile being the dumb mouth masking my weep.

Thousands of faces go up and down the street,
Milieu of people dipped in hues so deep,
On the roads travelled with the same pals I meet,
What remains silent is "the numb weep" that I reap.