I wish for the open blue sky above,
Not the ceiling of boxed lights,
A loud desperate cry of silence remains,
Over the ruins of my dead freedom,
A beeping system,
And this grayed monotony,
Even breathing sounds mechanical,
With a tiny soul shouting within,
O! You the little bird outside,
Flapping the wings that I need,
To tan in the sunshine,
Breathe and Live for a while.
TRIVIA
---------
{As I am sitting in my office doing my daily mundane tasks I
look above the tiled ceiling. I desire for the freedom of my creative soul
through this poem.}
Published in the MAY 2013 issue of e-magazine named
TAMARIND RICE.[Page 2 - top right corner]
