I'm all alone,
listening to my own voice,
that speaks to the mountains,
fast asleep in their own world.
I'm all alone,
miserably tied up to,
the body of destiny,
with a rope much,
more thicker than an iron chain.
I'm all alone,
thrown in the society,
like a waste-paper basket,
when God simply refuses,
to open his gentle lotus-like eyes,
to take a look at the,
motion picture of unnecessary suffering of mine.
I'm all alone,
The love for my brethren,
simply cannot accept,
hurtful, unfeeling, resentful remarks,
heeded at me, as if,
i were a satan of the nation.
I'm all alone,
like an innocent little calf,
to feel the wrath of the axe,
and safely reach Creator's feet,
in the abode of heaven,
where hopefully my loneliness,
vanishes away like a morning fog,
over a frozen river.............
Nithya I share your feelings. ' wrath of axe' its beautiful with love Maria Rose
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nithya- thats an nice poem