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Brita Roy

Abstract


4  

Brita Roy

Abstract


Sorrow

Sorrow

1 min 246 1 min 246

Sorrow, like a sharp- edged knife, makes a cruel incisive cut,

Reason, mental stability, energy, are all abruptly shut.

It saps one of motivation; it just makes one immobilized,

It drains one of hope, the affliction cannot be rationalized.


It seeps into one’s being, like a lethal potion imbibed;

The Afflicted, wilts like a thirsty plant, the flowers faded and dried.

One does not want to live; one has had enough of life,

One is weary, and wants to give up for ever, the constant strife.

Sorrow! Comforting Sorrow, keep me in your warm embrace,

It is so comforting to feel the inertia; incapable to self-efface,

 And wallow in self- pity; unable, the stark tribulations to face!

 Sorrow consume me in entirety, not leaving any trace. 


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