On such few days,
Which are so rare and special,
Lost in the crowd,
Of known and not so dear people,
I feel I am alone,
Like a aimless driftwood,
Bobbing in the sea of vagueness,
of should I, or I should.
This guessing game is killing me.
You have never tried to hide,
I have seen it in your eyes, or have I?
I don't ask, and let my pride,
Supersede a love,
That's slowly turning me mad,
Yet, I want so little,
And that's what makes me so sad,
All I wanted was to see you,
I am denied that privilege,
Who knows why, for what fault of mine,
A trapped bird, this life a cage,
Every tiny particle,
Conspiring against me,
I've resigned to the fact,
I'm not meant to be free.
There is no love, perhaps,
This idea is just an illusion,
So on this special day,
I am wishing for a blinded vision,
I don't want to dream, set me free,
I don't want to dream, let me be.
© 2009 Rituparna Das