Rotten Tamarind Seed Poem by Gajanan Mishra

Nobody has time
To understand me.
I lay down here
Like rotten
Tamarind seed.
Taking my pension,
Growing fragile,
And I am here.
You would get no more
The colours and taste
That were in me.

My tears are dying
In me, my blood
Getting dry in my body,
The filth that are
Here and there,
Being put together
In me by them.

No sound, no words,
No rhyme, no crowd
No light, no darkness,
Here, no mornings,
No evenings also.
The storms or winds-
No more. So also
I am in all
But I am nowhere.