BROKEN

Its me not the ashes which burnt in time,
Its me not the paper with broken rhyme,
Which fainted along as the sordid stream,
Eroded and eroded, once a vigilant dream.

Its me not the ones who could previce,
a heaven with deamons, only I can devise,
where deamons with motives to plunder and pursue,
a looted hope, a wrecked crew.

Its me not the ones whom I looked up to,
Who spitted every junk whatever lit,
For every emotion, mocked and backbit,
Bit by bit, bit by bit.

Its me not the memories that I disdain,
Its me not the dreams which shattered again,
Its me not the tears which have died,
Its me not the life that has lied,
Its me not the hopes which I have lost,
It me..here …only me...signing off….