from his wound did drain
soon to be lifeless and in no pain.
This man, his story, no one was told
His struggle, his mystery now unfolds.
Feeble whispers utters this man so lone
to the empty world for him bemoans
Must he finish his awry lament
lest from his body his soul is sent.
"You know not the agony my heart contains."
He gasps and winces, his voice, it strains.
"Circumstantial predicament in my life it thrived.
Bounded and beaten so much I despised.
I fled but was captured, more grief it brought.
I, like a fugitive, was wrapped in misery and fraught.
My family no stranger than yours I'd say,
the same old skirmishes, deceit, and fray.
In self pity eventually mom would drown,
resigned to fate, she ushered to move on.
New chapter, new pages, new plans endite,
Be strong with fortitude, live not with fright.
My brother took refuge away from home.
No backpack, just a gun and 3 little stones.
Alongside comrades I marked to frontier
with rifles in tow, embracing horror so near.
But all ain't over, war has just begun.
War with sleep, crime, time, self, and fun.
This new world was I unepectedly thrown,
raw and ugly, unfathomable and unknown.
To the world a valiant hero I am,
but deep within to hell I'm damned.
Wail softly, my heart, lest people might hear,
a sliver of brokenness, vanity, and tears.
I struggled to get back to normal living,
but somehow, somewhere, the link was missing.
With relentless search still I could not find
I must've lost it or got cheated by time.
Help me, understand me, I pleaded with life.
Turned I a hideous monster ready to be knifed.
Then gradually, when, I do not recall or know,
my path -- insane, grotesque, despicable-- followed.
A loyal friend, my tyrannous plight she knew
but strangely, distant and colder she grew.
To her, my heart, my everything I made clear,
yet more and more I lived in trepidation and fear,
but I am still a hero, no one threatens me.
So, I must break her, nail her, kill her in this melee.
Life is stronger, on her side it chose to be,
and my own poniard darted swiftly towards me.
And as I lay frazzle in my own gore,
a promise I made, yes, to myself I swore.
Not long after my spirit leaves my corpse,
become it will an evil of some sort.
It'll float. It'll roam. It'll follow her still.
You will know I'm alive in her haunted shrill.
Never you understood me, my myriad of pain.
Now you shall see who will lose, who will gain.
I'll be there with you in your sleep in your dreams,
in your awaken hours, solitude, and insane screams.
You will cringe, you will shiver, scared to be alone.
No happiness. No peace. It's time you shall mourn."
This woman, the friend, her story she speaks,
"I had to run for cover. Things became so bleak.
He'd talk of things he couldn't even understand.
He'd say, 'I am the hero, don't call me a man.'
Motionless he'd sit staring blankly in thin air,
how then could I link what he wanted to share?
Many times his words were broken, rarely 'twas fine,
mostly I could feel him breathe heavily down my spine.
Long after he'd gone, in my office I'd still be
thinking how to help him, wondering what if he was me.
Then as I'd leave for home, I'd notice a clairvoyant stare,
feeling followed, I'd turn, 'twas him out of nowhere.
I tried to understand him. I tried to lend a hand,
but he'd always regard himself a hero and not a man."
With this at last she ends her woe,
reclines in her hammock, nothing else to know.
Pensive thoughts in her mind swirls free.
She's thinking of something, of life, of me.
I enthrall people and truly enjoy their company
when they think of what I am and what to them I can be.
Time and I work together creating new beginnings.
Travel with me silently and I'll unravel many things.
This world is mine, you can be in any place.
Unique as you are, you are a part of my many shades.
So while she dwells in her muse unfazed,
not far away on her is transfixed a gaze
of a man who took refuge away from home,
no backpack, just a gun and 3 little stones.
Contributing Poet -
May - Hi. I'm working in the healthcare sector in quality
assurance. I'm in Bangalore. I have keen interest in reading, writing,
photography, trekking, and music. I believe that all of us have talent,
which, when used, can make a difference in the world, or at least, in
someone's life. The choice is ours. My writings are usually from personal