The tumult, damn!

Can you discern it, breathe it , the chicanery ?

The rasps within, alas!

Can you see these cuts ? The ones arcane under my skin.

Its so loud , the silence , where to scrutinise the soul?

Unsheathed fatal knife of god has bequeathed the soul with no hope, slithering with no clasp.

This solicitousness marring in silhouettes and what left is a bared body in a questioning milieu.

“Calluses begat by gripping left no hope to win the backing”



I write what i see, and feel what i breathe. Poetics, Realism is what i bathe in. Hope do i not that you see my words than just read?


  • Shruti June 29, 2016 at 8:02 am Reply

    silence can be at times deafening!
    but how can a broken heart not be poet .. when the blood sips out becoming ink before you even know it.

  • sahilbhambri June 29, 2016 at 8:21 am Reply

    Yes, the silence , true.
    The blood becoming an ink , strong image and you got it so right.
    Cracks inside filled up by agony.

    Thanks 🙂

  • Alka Sharma June 30, 2016 at 6:46 am Reply

    Sahil, your writing amazes me. Can you help guide me on copyrighting ? How can I go about it? My email is

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