I Am The Poem !

I am the poem !

You wrote a lovely poem
And threw it away,
Just because it didn’t rhyme?

You had told me,
“The lines are meaningless,
The dreams weaved are unreal,
It’s too abstract.
It can’t be sung,It reaches nowhere.”

Many unsung poems you have,
Between your books
Lost, forgotten.
Dead pieces of papers.

You kept it by your bed,
It was too abstract,
But you read it daily.

Yes, it was meaningless,
The letters were blurred.
Why? Did you cry?
You had brushed the question away
“No it did, it cries too.”

You held it to your chest,
You had said,
“One day, It will rhyme.”

You kissed the end lines,
“Ah, why can’t it reach somewhere.”

And then you threw it away,
Tell me, why?

Your poem is now bleeding.
it is about to die.

Tell me, why?

What if it can never rhyme?

I am the poem !