Trapped

A thought in his hand,

A million on his mind.

He knows peace is a treasure

Hard to find.

Hiding from the brute monotony

Of the yester, the day, and times later.

In company of his only friends,

His pen and paper.

Life’s so plagued by people, he thinks,

Even as he stands on a vast sea-shore

That there is as much freedom there,

As behind his closed door.

Nervous, bashful and newlywed,

She quietly followed her groom, as he led.

Learning quickly to give and share.

Nurturing the home with her gentle care.

But why does the ‘home’ seem full of foes?

Why can’t anyone else feel her woes?

The house echoing with her screams,

Drowning her love and the broken dreams.

She asked for a handful of happiness

And nothing more.

Then why is her blood splattered,

On her closed door?

Falling from a cliff before the wings unfurled.

Shoved unceremoniously into an unkind world.

Exploited by its own kin

When their conscience slept.

The eyes now dry,

As the innocence wept.

Hurt and confused, sanity trembling

On the edge of a knife.

Scared and bemused, briefly dreaming,

But again beaten back to life.

Living in a cage, a tiny soul tortured to the core

Too afraid to reach out and unlock the closed door.

A broken beauty, with a broken heart.

Whose life did end before its start.

Getting up every day, only to sleep.

Someone else every day, cutting her deep.

Waiting for the next one,

Putting her clothes and make.

Happy like a cartoon,

Smiling but fake.

Faster and faster the death-clock sped.

Again and again dying on the bed.

Stuck between walls of shame and hate.

Searching for sunshine, but the hour is late.

No one undressed the smile she wore.

None ever opened her closed door.

The gates of heaven,

Are red with blood and gore.

As around the globe,

Humans ask for more.

Here we stand proudly,

on hell’s shore.

Millions existing soundly

Like these four.

A poet, a bride, a child and a whore,

Suffering silently behind a closed door.