Marks Poem by Shouvik Roy
Marks
Remember? The marks we made
On the wall from the past,
We used the red of our trust,
And blue of our soul
And made the marks which carry our name...
But the wall is rotting,
And you are gone, but the marks stay,
And slay my heart in pieces two.
I need them to go away, but they don't
For the white paint of my agony is not able
To veil them; thus arises a need of my blood
To mask our history, forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 6:45:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful, very beautiful