Leprosy

Leprosy

Everything slips through her fingers

Her hands a mesh work

Of frailties

She can’t hold onto a thing

Behind her trudges a dark cloud

Of failures magnified

Cynicism  amplified

And hate is eminently inscribed

Deep in her eyes

The orchestra of her heavy breathing

Is in complete harmony

With the crunchy sound

Of the fallen dried paint

That once laced her lungs

Stepped on by irate kin.

With her wagging tongue

She curved her path

Cleared every obstacle

To her destitution

Out of her volition

She got into this mission

To prove she could drive

Her own being to completion

She hated

She received

Amidst complains

She deserved better

And now

No one needs her close

The ungrateful monster

Abandoned

Bitter lesson learnt

Bridges to the past burnt

UNGRATEFULNESS is LEPROSY

*** Sometimes I just write things that I cant even classify. Most of the times I see pictures in my mind that I just put down as raw as I see them. Can this be a poem? I don’t know but it is the closest embodiment of what I saw when I closed my ears and listened to voices unheard, humming of strange sort . But still I feel I haven’t put I down in its entirety. Read it and tell me what you think it is. ***** LOve ya’ll

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