My Only Goal
Like notches on a prisoner's cell wall,
On her fair forearm, short cuts stand tall.
Each day in which she loses control over her feelings,
Is etched on her arm like fair dealings.
She shared everything with me,
Laid her heart in front of me free.
The only thing she hid,
Were the cuts under her sleeve.
She knows I know them from arms of her,
She thinks the cuts she makes injure only her.
How wrong is she,
For, the one she hurts is me
I love her, she knows it too,
Over the days, my love for her has only grew.
Each day I try to make her loneliness immune,
Each night I know she'll be alone.
I've begged her never to think of cutting herself again,
For she is not the only one to feel the pain.
I told her 'one day I'll cut myself too',
She held my hands and said 'please don't do'.
What she knows not is my other side,
While I look brave, all I have is cowardice inside.
No words can express what I felt as I saw the slits,
Away from her arm, near to her wrist.
Only tears could express my feelings but I suppressed them,
The ache was expressed a lot later then.
Her arms have cuts now in the form of scars,
Looking at all of them I get charred.
I love looking deep into her eyes connecting to her soul,
Reaching her soul and making it mine is now my only goal.
Isabella Francis's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
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