Pain that etches me

Posted by prashant on Apr 25, 2012 in Featured, Poetry | 3 comments

It is my pain

That etches my soul

One bit at a time

On the canvas of life

I am strewn across

As a muddled mass of blood and bone

On the mattress of guilt

I lay bare

To the naked eyes of the world

Exposed of my innards

I seek shelter

In the arms of my beloved

Arms that broke as soon as they were cast

Cast in the smell of longing

In the dust and heat of the summer

I am etched

By not love or lust

But by pain

One bit at a time

One piece at a time

As I lay in wait to be completed

I seek neither my love nor my mistress

For I am owned and owned

Alone by my pain

That etches me.

P.s : The author of the poem is an odd-ball, doing odds job at odd times. An engineer by qualification, he does everything other than related to the field of engineering.  He, which basically means I as the I am in the habit of referring to myself as some other person, runs a vocabulary gig by the name of www.wordpandit.com and is free enough to take up workshops across North India.