SUICIDE, SYLVIA (2002)
Abhi | Posted on |

I speak no word
Vainly try
In sounds of albino hues
Chequered cries
Green, red and green
Black, red and black
Blue, red and blue
Interspersed with love, hate and farewell thee sighs
And pain that lies
Within me, you and all
Forever
If I do speak
It’s in sounds of breaking wings
Unable to cope
With the perpetual flight
In chase
Of an amaranthine dope
Called hope
Which flying beneath the azure fence
In guileless pretense
Seeks always
The past tense
As if
The owner can see through the opaque wall
A silvery rope
To climb and reach that dope called hope
Sold for free in the golden mall
Whether clothed in moonlight, snowflakes or morning dew
I am always dipped
In a scarlet view.
But that doesn’t matter, does it?
After all
I did always finally belong to
The unwanted few
The unchosen few
A few
See,
I act no play
For the voyeurs
Just a dumb charade
A charade
That no one wants to see
Because it reminds them of their own inadequacy
And so few have ever penned stories, written poems, sung paeans to me
I don’t even get a grave
Save
A path in limbo
That embers pave
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