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Too Late
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You, We Me Somehow, I know; don’t ask me how
but I know
the pain to come; the sorrow; the loss.
My voice is mild
I let you know
But you have no time; to hear the clock chime.
My sayings; Monotonous
I raise my voice
But you are just as before; without a care or choice.
Disappointed, I shout
Irritated are the crowd
Preoccupied; you ignore; to convince I talk more.
Earnestly I try
like a sharp edged knife
to cut through and through; and reach the closed mind.
Sharp, rude, loud, crude, and mild --
Alas! Only if you had heard, what I did say
this gigantic disaster indeed; would not have taken place.
That totally rules man.My fave one!Keep writing...
Beautiful poem! Very thought prevoking! Please let me know when you write more!
Wether the adressee in this poem is the World
or those close and cherished in our lives;
the truth is we have the same Nemisis acting
against us, I call it the "Cassandra Principle"
- Those of us who see the future and those
who do not and will not listen to warning.
Dear Jayati, Keep Writing - Keep the faith.