Pain And Writing Poem by Abdul Wahab

So much I have written with the word ‘'I''
Now I feel I have mutilated myself many times
In many ways into many pieces in many shapes and sizes
Yet the suffering of pain has not gone into air rather
It has rebounded back at the maximum
To get relief again I sit down to write
Thus the circle of pain and relief goes on
So are the pieces of myself and the pieces of a poem
In one of my poem I was a beggar and was begging alms
From door to door for being a child of street god
Or a female fetus with folded hands appealed to be pardoned
Form the sins I have never done
I also applied on me the feeling when I was a goat
Tied tight to a strong pole with a rope to be sacrificed
In the name of fake ceremonies and false gods