I call myself Anonymous as I walk along the lane
Stalking strange faces, by the bridges, roads and drain.

My curtains are never drawn and my door is always locked
But had to shed this Nyctophilia every time my thoughts are blocked
The weather is as gloomy as the old man sitting by the corner
Not a lonely leaf flickering as in Serein the trees are soaked.

I see the people way they walk; some pace, stagger and meander
Then there are the one like me; who ramble, roam and wander
They all greet each other with a happy-heart, smile and delight
But deep inside are tangled & twisted, as I watch them and ponder.

So I turned myself to the nature but the setting sun seemed cripple
The wind is dull and so is the stream, flowing silently with no ripples
As I heard the Brontide, wondered to linger or to decimate the hope
Will it quench my quivering quest or it’s the end of all the riddles.

Still Sondering in the streets as my mind yet to be contained
Stalking strange faces – sad eyed, stoned and unnamed!!!