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By Neel Trivedi

A swarm of fluttery capes & facades

Proceed from one abode to another


Some with wands, some with pitchforks

All gripping plastic heads to be showered with confectionary


Demanding treats from complete strangers

Lest they charge at those abodes with rancid weapons


Voguish tenets would perhaps attribute

This kind of conduct archetypal to Hallows Eve


Though they're not fallacious


Who could possibly fathom

That I chronicle not the dark festivities


But rather, every perturbing moment

Of what my depression demands


Always appearing in different shapes & identities

With the repetitious demands of the captivity of my mirth


Lest they throw more stones till the heart shatters

And tp my soul till it chokes its last breath!

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