My Life

My life is an open book
One can know it with a look
There are more and more joy in every nook
With a glance, one can know the truth
But there are some pages torn in between [by me]
Pages of sorrow, hidden by me, to be unseen
Fed up I am of this life
Where every travel is a painful drive
Where every breath of mine depends on the pill
Where in its absence, I am nil
Where my life has been a curse
Although alive, dead as a Corpse
Deep in my heart, somewhere I feel as a burden
Living as an abnormal, I avoid any human
Thought of ending this painful torture once and for all
But I care for those, who will worry with my every wrong fall
Bounded, I am, by their love and affection
Cannot give them pain and trauma by my wrong action
But how long can I suffer this life of dependence
Waiting I am, for the day when this life ends.



Miss. Sindhu Gopalkrishnan
8, Temple View,
Chhedanagar, Chembur,
Mumbai – 400089.

by Sindhu Gopalkrishnan

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Comments (1)

A touching poem, indeed. Please keep writing poems to come out of your sorrow and helplessness.