Get Your Premium Membership

In Poetry or Lullaby

There are strange noises happening in my apartment. Voices groaning in pain, and crying in anguishing angst. I called the police, as I just thought my depression is talking in hallucination. The police arrived in time. I told him about the experience. “There is nothing we can do to help you. I am not hearing any voices!” He was looking around. And I was still hearing the voices. Supplication within. Supplication without. Supplication in an area claiming to be in the indigenous area. The different “INDIANS” than brown-colored Asian Indians. And this is Death bed. I am selfish to own only me, there. And this is not an emotional blackmail. Not to you, not to them. I am none other than just another among a mass, among a crowd, staring at life. Poetry. Lullaby. Whatever.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 7/3/2022 3:45:00 PM
Thoughts, mixed in with truth Tamanna, that sometimes seem so convincing, we think are real. You have expressed this perfectly. God bless you and give you warm thoughts of peace...
Login to Reply
Ferdous Avatar
Tamanna Ferdous
Date: 7/3/2022 3:50:00 PM
Yes, I wish I could reply to you in a better thread than this poem. It is based on true events. People need oxygen these days , way later than a safer internet. No Worries, I am doing fine. Thanks.