It was the way of
hardship
that you
made me a moment's traveller
and then left me
unaccommodated.
It was the way of
hardship
that you christened me
not a betrayer
but an infidel.
It was hardship:
many a times
they gave me
an offering
of sliced ears
in a room full of others
like me.
It was hardship
that the whole world
immediately
turned against
me
as your name
made itself heard.
I still
rallied around
citing my
guileless innocence.
They
continued to
send me
strangulated throats.
***
They seldom called
me Sir
Or Gentleman
Or innocent
Or fallen.
They sent me
along the
way of our street's
deep sewers
and said:
"your hardship
has exploded
from your pen.
Now all your friends
will make unholy incense
of your rights
and move ahead of you.
Now
you must
search for
a third storey
to be accommodated"
***
YOU ARE READING
WORDS ON THE HORIZON
PoetryI present to you my new collection of poems which will be reflective of my present states of mind and compel me to translate my deepest desires and waves of thoughts, brimming with emotions. ...
