The Desperate Cry
They say it is a crime
To write a poem that rhymes
I was told it was waste of time
They treated me as a slime
Made me bearer of blame
I stood in the hall of shame
And soon I gave up my claim
To prevent my heart from going up in flames
But alas without poetry I am no more
Though my hands are sore
My thought pours, my heart roars
The barrier I built around myself tore
When heaven opens it’s door
Not for me but to that warm heart of yours
To explore,deep inside your heart’s core
Copyright © Bindhu Grashia | Year Posted 2017
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