Dead thoughts, like bones in catacombs deep, pile up, a festering decay in my brain. Pushing, shoving, surfacing briefly, then drowning in the deep recesses. Can I hush the tempest of my inner world? and  find my own Dwarka - serene and bright. #NaPoWriMo Day 28 PromptThree sentences, six lines: statement, question, conclusion. Partial Pic Credit