Beads String Poem by hemu gupta

Drip drip the sound,
beads dropping on the ground,
one by one,
colorless,
opaque,
rough,
hard,
with rusty surface,
one by one,
falling on ground,
I am picking them up
putting them in a string
to tie the end to make a bead string
what will it look like I don't know
the beads mysterious in my life string are rough to feel,
not can be wore nor can be treasured,
but it is there,
only again deafening sound drip drip,
how to get rid,
I want to be freed.