Jailhouse

There’s deep dungeon inside me,

A Jailhouse,

Where people are incarcerated,

Ordained by the self- esteem,

For diminishing me,

Taking away power,

Breaking promises,

Alienating me,

Tampering with my identity,

Attacking me with their projections,

I keep them locked,

I don’t like looking at them,

They are those that I loved,

Some I am convinced I still love,

But like convicts, I have shifted some in my memories continents away,

And now it gets twined and twisted,

Thoughts of their well being pops in hay,

I have to shut the growth of this twine,

That confuses my mind,

There’s also this deep end of the dungeon,

A selected few, here;

These cocky ones get special treatment,

The once that refuse any explanation,

But

They can’t be shipped

I need to know they are locked in for long,

They yell from inside- speaking at lengths of their needs,

My dungeon is getting hard to manage, lately,

I might just let them go far from me

And dissolve the key,

Convert it into a garden spade maybe,

This jailhouse can be a beautiful conservatory,

It can nurture those who want to hope,

The dungeon needed to be quite dark

The conservatory needs stark

And clean

So take your time, take your time

I here me say,

Adjust your pupils!

Let light quadruple …

Release them and you be free!!!

– Rupika Moitra

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