I've built my prison
Brick by brick
Cutting off branches,
Burning bridges,
Turning a deaf ear,
Shutting my eyes.
A window I've left
For the sun and the wind;
I peer through the hole
At the sliver of the sky
Across which strolls
A slice of the moon.
The visitors thinned.
The calls diminished.
What right have I
To complain of fate:
I'd asked for this,
I got what I wished.
From their memories
I've now vanished.
From their lives
I've been erased.
I got what I asked
For I'd asked for this.
Brick by brick
Cutting off branches,
Burning bridges,
Turning a deaf ear,
Shutting my eyes.
A window I've left
For the sun and the wind;
I peer through the hole
At the sliver of the sky
Across which strolls
A slice of the moon.
The visitors thinned.
The calls diminished.
What right have I
To complain of fate:
I'd asked for this,
I got what I wished.
From their memories
I've now vanished.
From their lives
I've been erased.
I got what I asked
For I'd asked for this.
Not all poems appeal to me. But for some reason, this did. Good one. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pradeep.
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