Monday, November 2, 2009

Man don't cry

Cry baby, cry baby
I'm a cry baby on the run
my shrills struck her hard
but she killed the baby in me with a gun

Rubbish, rubbish
everything in me is rubbish, she said
my words knocked on her heart
but she cut my heart with a steely blade

Dead, dead
I'm a dead on the prowl
instead of resurrecting the dead in me
she spite venom on my soul

Mirror, mirror
you are a mirror, she had told
then accusing me of self pity
she fled, leaving me in the cold

7 comments:

PassionMust said...

the opening is awesome :)

Vittaldas Prabhu said...

Amazing. I am going to run out of words to describe the opening stanzas.

Seems likes there has been a certain someone who has got in touch with a very sensitive person. The possessiveness and feeble mind of the sensitive person has become a constant irritant to the stronger individual, and she had to leave the sensitive high and dry. Sounds crazy? This is what I felt.

Anorak said...

@Vittaldas Prabhu: You are bang on target, my friend!!!.... keep walking!!!

Chhaya said...

Hard hitting, this one..

btw, how did u find my blog... just curious... and yeah thank for the kind words
just posted something new

Chhaya said...

and yeah,... blogrolling u :)

Little Girl Lost said...

amit-dont know if the poem was about you... but it is very reminiscent of something that happened to a close friend of mine... sensitive ppl dont have it easy in this world, do they?

new poem on Rivers... come n see...

Tammie Lee said...

the OUCH of this tale is so well told!