Painful Autumn

With all these bruises of autumn
I walked over these graves
Where daisies once, posed
For a charming picturesque.
With a bunch of red and crispy
Chinar leaves, in my hands
I stopped and looked around,
The designs of summer
And the gentle inauguration of
Spring had just faded and
Dismantled away, like a puff vanishes
In the air, the redness of these
Leaves resemble the blood of
Martyrs, drenched and soaked
With many faded aspirations,
The calmness of this ill-fated
Land and the gloomy sun,
Finding it hard to come
Out of the shade of oppression,
I stand with my hands cuffed,
My mouth is stitched and my legs
Cemented with all my failures
I had over these years,
Far away I can see, a house
Being burned down and the tulips
From the nearby gardens
Blasting in the air, dispersing off
Their mesmerising memories of their
Loved ones, in the form of
Exotic pheromones and struggled
Tirelessly to set me free,
I stand still, but my thoughts
Ran amok through days
And nights, with everything
Around me vanishing, my
Sobs turning into cries and
Then into shrill, everyone
Witnessed but none bother to help.