The Wet Carpet Poem by Abdul Wahab

The Wet Carpet

Rating: 5.0


I am born, bring and brought up
while I am dead
and each day I conceal
the truth and let lies spread
yet world does not stop for me
nor I am alive
though a worse liar I am
yet I freely move around
wearing a coloured mask
I keep on building my life
and I never grow tired
though daily I am cut by the knife
I know my life is a curse
as I am fed on deceit
But I never allowed myself to feel that guilt! !

silently I closed my holy book of lies
and finally I fell asleep
but never will i close my eyes
for the blood soaks the carpet deep

Sunday, December 13, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: life and death
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Seema Chowdhury 14 December 2015

Nicely expressed and a meaningful write.

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