poet should die

at that night after coming back to his blue room, he wrote this…without any logical reason behind.. but when he was writing, his eyes turned in to blue.. and that blue was flowing down across his unshaven cheeks and blotted on the paper.. making it blue..


May 20
poet should die..
as a dog on the road
with a heart so wounded

he should bleed
in pain and agony
with no one to witness, no hand to hold

he should write
his poetry till his worn out life ends
and he should sing
till his heart stops
he must strive with his last drops
to bring a smile to all the sad souls


till the last morph of his love
released in to the air
with no trace behind him
with no words around him..

he should die and wither
like dust in the wind…