Locked in the folds of tenuous breaths
Life stutters on the path of confused dreams
Suffer I alone bereft of a star I wait
To be picked up from eddy of needs and dead whims
The stalk that once held the flowers
Stands askance sniffling as a morbid straw
Lifting a tendril in a bid to save my head
I walkto the land where I could a sustenance draw
Treading through curses and blames
I had a hope that I could reach the crown
In the game my moves get wrong
And the snakes spit venom and gulp me down
Dropped on to the bed with closed fists
Eyes failed to recognize those stood around
Illusion was hidden in the womb of innocence
Else I would not have walked this unholy ground
The fists are open now with distinct lines
No pain as I am accustom to losing the toss
Waiting on the stage for the final act to come
They have words for nails and my heart for the Cross
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem