​I’ve built my prison
Brick by brick
Cutting off branches,
Burning bridges,
Turning a deaf ear,
Shutting my eyes.

A window I’ve left
For the sun and the wind;
I peer through the hole
At the sliver of the sky
Across which strolls
A slice of the moon.

The visitors thinned​.​
The calls diminished.
What right have I
To complain of ​fate:
I’d asked for this,
I got what I wished.

From their memories
I’ve now vanished.
From their lives
I’ve been erased.
I got what I asked
For I’d asked for this.

By |2018-12-10T10:44:31+00:00January 15th, 2018|Poem|2 Comments

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  1. B Pradeep Nair January 24, 2018 at 4:31 pm - Reply

    Not all poems appeal to me. But for some reason, this did. Good one. 🙂

  2. Jeena R. Papaadi January 25, 2018 at 2:16 pm - Reply

    Thanks, Pradeep.

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