Broken Tigress

I am in a mobile cage, with transparent bars. It moves around the kingdom freely. But I am still a prisoner, imprisoned to material freedom. And emotionally I am tied by chains. My heart has a leak, or holes. I guess too many holes, both for inlet and outlet. I am talking of illegal transportation. 

I know I am imprisoned and inaudible, but often I find myself hoping a release. I know I shall be released, within 5 or 7 years, or a little longer. 

And right now I slumber in disappointment and distress, and hopelessness of present.But sometimes, I rebel like a courageous fool, cry my heart out, in spite knowing that nobody hears.

In this lonely tiresome, tied with chains, behind mobile bars, I move according to my choices sometimes, and inside it lay like a broken tigress, ever breaking down and healing a little, occasionally.

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Simple death

A fair young lady,

In insecurity,

Committed a dreadful crime,

And lost herself in soot black,

When finally she desired life.

Whose game of threat,

Threatened her breath,

And decayed her living body,

No desire to live,

I have learnt, succeeds,

When death is on wheels.

A page from silence

I hear that tumult in hearts of people,

Who own me in public, with smiles,

I hear their heart banging hard,

Breaking instead the inner walls:

“Let me out, my master you are not,

Like a tyrant I shall live in prison,

If fear makes you slave to foul,

And you disrespected fall to silence,

I shall shout and you shall bleed,

And like Ganges your body will flow

Red in deceit.” And so I too drown with him,

For my name he keeps above immoral desires,

Afraid to be subject of scorn, and

And afraid of his evil rebels.

He takes refuge in my name,

Unreal and misunderstood, he thinks of me,

Scorns me of what poets have praised,

Threatening my esteem to perish.

CRY

Yet I know,

I cried again,

Questioned weary questions, again;

Again my eyes danced,

Wet in denser tears,

Which flows not like a river,

But that fall, high above ground,

Blurry to naked eyes,

Drowned in mist,

Mistaken as beauty;

For what beauty lies in pain,

And what pain lies in young mountains?