A teardropp hangs to my eyelid like a dewdropp on a leaf blade
My heart is heavy with the pain of bereavement
Those days are dead now, though the pyre keeps burning
Why does the vision of an unknown poet keep haunting me?
Am I destined to wander, raving like a madman in the darkness?
I am struggling beneath the weight of bygone days
Sapped of all my zeal in an empty raft
As I keep straying in the middle of nowhere
Many a fond memory tries to colour the background of my mind
Night is eternal here as the sun of hope will never rise
I will never take my pen again to capture my feelings
I bid farewell to you my world
The poet in me is dead.
Abhay Vignesh Liginlal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/suicide-of-a-poet/
