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The marks on my banished body
Having no sensation of pain
But so much lonely for the eyes to see.
Me is a sand pattern
With no destination
When desperate for the last call.
No more tears I have to cry
For life has sucked me little more than the enough
Not much air to breath the tomorrow.
It be nice if you do me no good
For each you spend for me
To replace water confused for tea
That makes the chances not to stay
But to recede from you.
My presence with you does not pull on well
To help me prefer the old age home somewhere.
Can you say
Any amount of effort shall repair my despair
When I am fed up with the unrest?
Not enough time I have in hand
To attempt for the final rest.
I am only an undiscussed agenda
Waiting for a test
But I can forgive and forget everything you did
As helpless I am
To have the forgiving heart of a father
Ever to give birth and let you grow
Shading my blood and sweating my bone marrow
Despite your turning cold blooded and heartlessness
To say me a bitter memory
To live guilty within myself
In turning me out of you.
Here all care
But never pretend to ask till the end
“How are you?
Copyright@ Dr Sudhansu Dash