Prabhakar Subramaniam


A hell of your own


The roof is where
I come up for air
After the day's fighting is done
From my corner
Littered with dead leaves and limbs
I watch planes
Heading for greener pastures.
Why is paradise, always, beyond the skyline
Happiness, always, somewhere else
The victor, always, someone else
Why are the stars farther away than yesterday
The moon so reluctant to rise
The breeze still trapped in the trees
At this hour of retreat
Why do I think of someone
Condemned to eternal pain
Though allowed to suffer unseen

Submitted: Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, March 19, 2013

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