Revelation

 

Break free,

of my inhibitions, I want to,

of my dogma, I need to.

Break free of the chains, that I cannot see.

 

It is a cold cell,

cold as the forbidden hell.

Is  this your world,

or it’s just me.

Why don’t I get to, break free?

Turn the pages of history.

Turn them left, turn them right,

even there you could find me.

Hidden behind the closed doors,

buried under the soil.

Bombarded with your ingenuity.

The same cold room always,

Always the dreadful chains on me.

Seldom has an endeavour being made,

endeavour to break me free.

They say I am generous,

forgiveness at my decree.

Why do I not remember?

May be I never broke free.

Maybe  I will never break free!

 

You might be wondering the I in me?

Who put the chains?

What is the story?

Let me give you a glimpse,

A hypothesis to go with your lemon tea.

Follow the trail,

a child leaves with its smile.

You might find the path to break me free, to break me free.

I  might just be your salvation.

A path to resurgence.

Your path to redemption.

If you’re still confused,

Just to let you know.

I am Humanity…

 

©ManashJborah

 

 

 

 

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A turn..

A new turn.

I took a new turn, took a new lane.

Took a path, dared the unknown treading a new terrain.

It was a new song in the same old player!

Took a long breath after a dead stare…

A new season maybe!

A new life that’s less hazy.

A new turn maybe of new events.

A new turn amidst the dark shades.

©ManashJBorah

A Cry….

 

In the middle of the road she sat,

hands pressed hard against her chest.

Her eyes were filled with fear;

Her lips pressed against each other.

She couldn't move, any effort was moot.

A cry for help she conjured!

A cry it was,  though not of help but of fear and sadness.

She could feel those prying eyes,

Trying to snatch and tear her flesh.

Ten thousand thoughts crossed her mind, ten thousand escapes.

All that and more she tried and failed.

All that was left was her blouse in pieces.



The animals left; nothing was left of her.

Not just her flesh, her soul they scratched and snatched!

She was never weak, never ever was she fragile.

The water broke and the real world appeared.



The irony of the incident was her dichotomy.

She could remember feeding the animals,

That was lunch-time, she was in her primary!!.......

©ManashJBorah