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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Estranged [A dedication] Jay was sitting in his small cell His head resting on the rails Staring with an absent minded wonder At the raiment on his shrunken shoulder. Is he the same man! or a shadow of Jay Sen the scholar, the stylist philanthropist The graceful spendthrift, a sophisticated sophist. When did his advent venture turned into adversity! When did he turn an addict, refusing golden opportunity He couldn't make up his mind He couldn't cope up with the blind Those who can't differ A gold and a plated glitter! Those who have used him and Threw him like a burnt cigar. The cynical pseudos who blamed him a psychic Accordingly they deserved blows and kick. To some 'normal humane' this was unusual An act of violence, not so sane and frugal From then Jay's address is 'the Asylum', The 'kind' home for mentally disturbed hoodlums. Just then he saw himself In a half burnt cigar, the warden threw. Smoke was still rising, it's still alive, he knew. He wanted it so badly, he stretched his hand out of the rails And a sudden pain gripped him A hooked rod ripped him Drawing back his bloody knuckles Jay cries a song of pathos A rhapsody of agony mixed with rage Fills the air of the dim lit cage The half dead creatures exhales sighs of sorrow And thus the sighs and cries moves on As great waves of echos. One night an angel surely came for Jay With a candle glowing with a serene light Not for money,not for fame, but only to spread love And took away all the painful humility like a feather touch of a dove. She made the disturbed calm and quiet Mr. Jay is a reformed man now, always happy and satisfied.
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