Halved Poem by Pinaki Dewan

To flee the figured course in a sad quarter of your life,
To fill-narrate the deliquescent moments colourless
With the lampblack-tears of sightlessness, would that suffice?
Would that suffice like a stone thrown at a defenceless bird?
Or would it remain in the hushed silence of the stifled word?
You did surmount a taunt, alas could not surmount a loss,
You called yourself a fighter, you said you were your own boss,
But he touched you in places you can't even recognise,
Now, you'll need to shovel your halved self, will need to burn your lies,
Till the plates are ready on your table with the food and flies.
Make a nest soon for yourself with the fresh twigs of compromise,
Or you'll end up in the horizon where the morning dies.