A Dying Bird
What was I?
Perhaps a dying bird,
Kicking the last breath
Out of my breast.
Lying there I liked the place
Where I had dwelt.
I was fluttering my wings.
Oh my God! There was no pain as such.
I was thirsty,
So I needed little water
There was a demon there
Who wanted me to slaughter!
He picked me up
In his dirty hands,
He broke up my wings
And pulled up my hair in strands.
I remembered my dad,
I often remember him
When the situation is bad.
I cursed the demon
But he never left me
And clutched me even tighter.
I couldn't resist my tears
And heavily wept,
The demon didn’t stop
Till he completed his act.
He left me in rugs
With the soul as same.
Suddenly the world looked dark
And I hadn't had any shame.
I stopped remembering dad now
Because the idea seemed bad now,
I wanted to hold my breath
I wanted to close my eyes;
I wanted to hug my death.
Copyright © Pummy Sharma | Year Posted 2013
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