White Unspoken Obituary
Carved in echoes, lost in breath,
A name dissolves, a fading step.
A hollow shape, a paper ghost,
A fleeting shadow—nothing close.
The world still hums, the sun still burns,
Yet silence swallows all returns.
A smile stitched with brittle thread,
A laughter choked, a soul half-dead.
Pages rot where ink won’t spill,
Letters twist against their will.
A story buried, never read,
A voice still whispering—long since dead.
©Avinash Jha
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