Rohit Sapra

(7 August 1984 / Gwalior)

A Simple Desire


I miss having a friend
A true friend, I miss so much
Nobody even talks to me now.
Hurt is so much in my feelings that I simply cannot describe
All my efforts go in vain
As I am in pain, so much of it.
This torture of not having even a single true friend
Is really too much for me.
What did I actually do so wrong?
To deserve all this?
Everyone is rejecting me, I need a true friend
Someone to care for me by feeling my emotions
It is a simple desire of affection
Do I not deserve it?
Am I requesting for too much?

Submitted: Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 11, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Simple Desire by Rohit Sapra )

Enter the verification code :

  • Geetha Jayakumar (9/8/2013 11:38:00 AM)

    Beautiful poem Rohit..You have to keep on making friends....They will bring much positivity in you..
    Beautiful write. (Report) Reply

  • Rohit Sapra (7/11/2013 9:26:00 AM)

    Thank you for your kind comments. It is really nice to get few comments on this poem. Wrote it with my true feelings as I really feel so isolated. (Report) Reply

  • Pradip Chattopadhyay (7/11/2013 3:16:00 AM)

    you have poet many of them, maybe you aren't helping them find you out. What you seek is in bounty waiting to be found. This poem was moving. (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]