Whispering voice from the window
With tone of hope but much of scare
Home alone, unsure what to do
I peep the window, gathering dare
Suddenly, the voice, I hear from another
Just as I peeked through one;
It sounds like an innocent call
Away from a villain, on the run
Quickly I move to the window
That’s close to the door, to peek
The voice is now clearer
Now, than before, more bleak
Approaching the door, some footsteps
I hide behind the curtains, pale
Audible, was more than two sets
With the tone of call becoming frail
I wanted to fling the door open
And look them in their eye,
But all I did is stand behind curtains
Until the meek voice I heard, die
Next day, I washed them well –
Splashes of red on the curtains white,
Pretending everything was over, fine
Dying with guilt of not even a fight
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