A Silent Curse – Poem by Utkarsh Tripathi

Image: Erika Snyder

The gift of the verses is a slient curse,
It can take you from places that are bad to worse,
I bleed my heart through the ink of my pen,
People shower praises,it’s my moment,but then;

The moment just passes,I ponder as if in daze;
The truth then strikes me,of the world’s cruel ways;
They admire the beauty of the flawless rhymes,
But never look past it to the troubled times;

The time when this soul was hopeless and lost,
They applaud my verses without knowing its cost,
The cost of the memories masked as the ink,
Each drop is a story,every dot a missing link;

Every letter is a silent plea,please dont forget me,
Every line is an unshed tear,wishing someone was here,
Every note,every curve,every verse;
Just highlights my insecurities and fear;

And so it hurts when these cries go unnoticed,
believe me,to put down my pen many a time i have wished;
But it seems to be the only constant in my everchanging life,
It has supported me through hell like a loving wife;

But sometimes I do wish I had someone of my own;
Someone who could speak,even if it was my clone;
Someone who would tell me that its still allright;
that all hope is not lost,stand up and fight;

So until that someone comes prancing in my life and time;
Bear with this bard and his humble little rhymes;
I Know i am an entertainer,I will play my part right;
Till my life fades to black and my memories to white…..