He was fading away And it was not sudden –
it never is Single droplets of mist
- that was slowly creating the storm He would grieve silently walking down the lonely back alleys Slumping a little with the weight of faded memories in his jacket pockets. He would laugh a little too loudly. Trying to make others take notice
But no one did. They couldn't see behind the mask Could not hear the screams behind the smile Couldn't spare a few moments to care For they had their own battles, their own demons He understood death. It was the pain he found incomprehensible. Death had purpose.
Pain was simply pain And when he jumped off the edge of the building Some cried; some said they always knew something was wrong Some called him a coward. Some called him selfish. And a week later they all moved on… We are all lost...always had been But we could have got lost together Not from each other....
We could have made a continent But we choose to be islands instead Building walls
Burning down the bridges.
Poet Rupam Dutta
is also a playwright and
a novelist. He lives in
[Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in our Blog are those of the author(s) / poet(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Publisher.]