Today, there is no poetry left in me


19 (1)
Today, there are no kind words left
in my dictionary of compassion
but only silent words of agony
cold, pith, dark.

Today,there is no hope left for
a harmonious metaphor, perfect metre
Only a pulp of desire
Towards a reckless bubble of youth

And heart that carries , the verses
thrown at your feet,like a humble brogan
that you never cared to gaze upon
but pummel under your appearance

Today, there is no poetry in me
Only the memory of Poems
that I have written in desperation
A flagrant sculpture of disappointments, downturns.

Today, there is nothing more disastrous left
that I could adhere with my fate
To swallow the unhitching of times,
But the false anticipation of reconciliation
A greedy glutton for delirious seasons.

 

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