By-Namratha Sharma
It knocks on my door
Every night and day,
Especially in the night
Where it whispers the
Words of hell and praise.
It never fails to strike
Me when I’m alone,
And catch my hair
Drag me down below,
To make me plead for the
Sins I’ve never committed,
And watch me cry
For the loneliness
I suffer everyday.
They say I understand,
But do you really get it?
Because I don’t see anything
Working out,
All you said was cleanly washed out.
And in the end that all is
Left, is my lonely dream
Living with loneliness
In a room filled with
Darkness and scream!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn