The Road Left

Of the night that serves the demoral soup,
As if nothing, I am standing sick.
The darkness leaking in every nook,
Hearty confessions of the road, my limbs did lick.
A smile with a sigh comes across;
 It's only that tempts me to the old rhythm,

Concealing the vices that arrives in gross
That's the bitter truth I bear within.
A casual walk won't do it now.
Its time I curtailed my acidic laments
And crammed the stanzas how
To abort the memories of the undying moments.
My insane mind finds out a way,
Where no nightingales' entertain
And a voice inside longs to say
That destiny destines the destination of man.