Amitava Chakrabarty


Small bits of myself was shattered on the floor
And scattered it lay smeared with blood of pain
I gave the healer time to nurse the sore
To pick my pieces and recreate myself again;
Thus up I stood with fractured inner core
Where wound did heal but gaping scars remain,
Inflicted soul sought to escape the gloom
And cool the careworn veins where nature bloom.

Oh! Words Oh! Words had tormented my nerves
And made a perfect orifice through my ribs,
What love did breed such vengeful venomous barbs?
And ripped the strands of closest relationships;
What divine purpose the lashing tongue did serve?
Those scurrilous, vicious, cruel adjectives,
Today in tranquil lap of mountain vale
The curses impinge me in gusty spell.

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