Yet Another One Poem by Aiman Rathore

Crossing the lines of humanity
to maintain my own dignity
was it fair and just?
Is that what they deserved?
love, hate and its tragedies?
fear growing inside of me
life is just a mystery
full of my little miseries...

Conceited and mean
I shall call myself
for walking past those memories
disowning old identities
building a stairway
to the cell of lonliness
and being the first
to tumble down it

but not to cry, my beloved-self
its a story of anyone's agony
im not the only one in this melancholy
so better not cry about my despondency
when at this very moment
an innocent soul is concealed