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Standing still, they are still hinged,
to the past, when I had left;
neighboring walls do not know,
"What happened after I left?"
the door opened to innocence;
those yellow evenings faded away,
the door opened to carousel;
that fair turned to debris in a day.
Inside the hallway, to the rooms,
the door opened to slumber,
those starry nights washed away
the door opened to veranda,
a mother turned to dust on a day.
On that day, it opened to grieving,
when mob entered, and I had left
neighboring windows remain silent,
"What happened after I left?"