The guilt hangs around

Sometimes in those nights

With ear-splitting din,

It hangs around,

Like a noose,

An albatross around the neck,

The guilt starts to

Choke the pipe.

The elements of doubts

Raise the hairs on arms.

But the chills are 

Sent down the spine,

"What do you do my dear?",

A scared, raggedy simpleton

Asks me for a conciliation.

Biding the time,

No dearth of words

But too little to offer,

The child needs wisdom from peer,

A rejoinder thrown across.

"Let the night be spent,

May it fold in 

As a nightmare.

A morning may shine upon

Tomorrow."

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