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Manaswita Ghosh



Manaswita Ghosh


I AM. . .

I AM. . .

2 mins 14K 2 mins 14K

I am a sad thought, a forgotten song

I am a lost memory, kept away for long,

I am a drop of tear, slumped before I had the fall

I am an old stone, buried in an abandoned wall,

I am a silent hope, too hushed to be noticed

I am a crushed rose, torn by my own thorns,

I am a lost traveller, locked away from home

I am a storyteller, a nomad on his own,

I am a fading prayer, with yet intact faith

I am a noone, a crowd with no intellect,

I am a long cherished dream, too high to be aimed

I am a hurricane, far wild to be tamed,

I am the sea, a rising tide

And fallen way before I ever rise,

I am the timid one, too scared to raise my voice

I am the cornered loser, left with no choice,

I am the rich beggar, spreading my hands before the almighty every night,

Yet, I am the one, who blames him when nothing goes right,

I am that fiend of a friend, who’ll laugh at you even when you bleed

I am that ancient warning, whom you never heed,

I am that unfortunate tune, played because I am too weak to protest

I am that slab of stone, laid in peace to rest,

I am the one often warned not to be born

I am a forgotten passion, a sad thought, a forgotten song. . .

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