Pratibha Varma
There is clutter
There is chaos
Cords entangled to impossible freedom
There is perpetual frown on our foreheads
And our palms are sweaty forever
We blink too many times than normal
And we are loud even in silence
There is hurry, which rarely means
We are punctual,
There’s constant urgency in our desires
And cut throat cut offs
for happiness in general
There is absence of ethics
Or etiquette, there are deaf ears
blind eyes and cold shoulders
We are feverish and violent
Skeptical and judgmental
There are graves in our living rooms
And nooses crisp with young blood all over,
But we can explain this insanity,
This aura around
Our twisted faces
We fight for our clan like ferocious lions
We protect our integrity like soldiers
We know ego is a whore
And we do not keep account
Of our pasts
We are arrogant but not proud;
Call us misunderstood Robin hoods
Stitching capes from fragile shrouds!
::x::x::x::
Poet Pratibha Varma
lives in Dibrugarh, Assam
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