Sunday, March 31, 2013


I curse that fateful night
When I was hit on the head
By some psychopaths spreading fright
And looted me to make the bread.

I woke at a place in a wondering fold
Asking what I was and how that pain.
A mortal cool in white coat told
That for mere span short the memory can I regain.

Ever since then I feel the escape from mind
Of the thoughts, the people, the memories and the rhyme
And the rove for a better mind if they find
To leave me as the one lost in time.

I am a lost bird with a wing
Having flight hedged by a fence.
I can sense the knowledge deserting
But I hope at home the wisdom remains.

Here now, dears, I bid farewell
And allow me to be across.
For now I retrieved without fail
To pen a poem that recites my loss.

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