The Sound of Silence

The Sound of Silence

It cannot be heard or seen

It's a sensation 

That can only be felt by the mind

Which is calm and serene

Memory Lane 

I often take a stroll down memory lane 

And loiter in the suburbs of memories

Each time I visit I make minute alterations

And I think this is how the memory works

Abandoned Language 

When words evaded me unexpectedly

I devised a new language.

It was as old as antiquity and

As soothing as a sedative

It is the language of Silence

Mastered by many

Practiced by some

Understood by a few

Dead or Alive

I'm a seed that forget to sprout

I've been in balmy slumber for years

But I'm plant in one of my prolonged dreams

Am I dead or alive?

Fugitive 

As the plot progressed,

the discontented protagonist ran away from the story.

And the readers called him a refugee 

The irated author called him a fugitive