By Praveen Kumar Singhmar
Portion of me
Is left behind
Under the seed of rot,
Around the corrupt self,
Inside the blocked mind,
That gives up for lust,
That can’t expand,
That’s still at unrest.
A piece of me
Tries and drags,
But the evil half-soul rejects
To move,
And such a decline
Brings forth to it
The elements Of dirt.
And this part of me
Still seeks to
Revisit
The long forgotten
Ghettos of waste,
Of unnatural thirst.
This insane inmate just
Doesn’t make an exit.
A greater lot of me
Rebels and revolts for
This half madman,
Splitting him into two
Reluctantly refusing to abide by
His whims and
His crooked fancies.
Crippled together,
Both splits of me,
Barely move forward,
And so remain shut
Indoors of gloom.
