My Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
My
I hold onto
like they're precious
my ego
my anger
my vanity
my dignity
my belief
my faith
miles of them
they would need reams of paper
to be written
and when stacked high
could be seen only
MY.
MY
the self ruthless
wiping out your face!
Friday, August 15, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: vanity
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4/25/2024 5:41:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Rightly said all of them are mine and what use of them if they stay tuned with me and carry no virtues at all....... very well penned