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



Leave a comment

Please note, comments must be approved before they are published