Home Is A Torture Cell For Me Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

Home Is A Torture Cell For Me

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I feel like being a prisoner,
Inside my own house here,
He doesn't give me a handful of freedom,
All he gifts me with is boredom and boredom.

If I call anyone over the phone,
He appears like a monster making me mourn,
For my effort to contact with others,
Even the windows are like the jail's bars.

I can't cook properly, he says,
I can't behave, he says,
I'm not allowed to go for a walk outside,
Since the virus called ‘doubt' is eating his mind.

He has made me bleed repeatedly,
Since I tried to escape desperately,
Grabbed me like an animal,
Throwing me back into his torture cell!

Oh God! What can I do?
I beg of You,
Please save me from this medieval Satan,
Open up a way for me to fly, to run.


- Written from the perspective of a tortured woman.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: sadness
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gangadharan Nair Pulingat 02 December 2014

Contemporary Problem that faces in families and society which public opinion is against the situation and authority interventions are there. A theme of importance the poet made.

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Md. Ziaul Haque

Md. Ziaul Haque

Sylhet, Bangladesh
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