Poetry

The window was closing. 
Whole life went by, 
to understand oneself, 
trying to find the true meanings of words, 
using myself as a bait.
 
To read or not to read the unwritten, 
blank page. A dot 
a dash, a comma, parenthesis. 
They were trying to find 
the signature pains. 
 
A green rust starts burying 
the crumbling wall. The cognitive 
climb gets a setback. Suddenly 
the peeling off starts, of makeup. 
You stand naked.