Sunday, 7 June 2015


My hopes are about to die
My heart is all but crippled
With an ominous looking sky,
My spirit is totally shackled.

I've tried very hard to cope
Trying to to forget all my heartache
I could go no far but mope
I've failed to balm on my mistake

All the wishful treasures that I had
To touch others' life with my love
I've locked the doors with a thud
There's only a useless heap of trove.

I had desired a life full of bliss
Where scope of a smile was adamant
It was a dreadful task to accomplish
The poisonous pursuit made me broken, malignant.

I'm still alive with dead cold heart
Unable to feel or to try to reinvent
Deep down I know, what little I have left
It's living with myself, my own bereavement.

--Suman Dutta Roy

No comments:

Post a Comment