I am not a poet
And I do not claim to be
I am merely a peasant
The one who struggles for money
Life had been cruel
Had taken everything away from me
Left me with nothing
Even my own identity
I hate this face
The mirror told me
I despised this place
Was my reply as I shattered it!
I’m not making any sense, I know!
All sanity in me is gone by now
Uttering sweet nothings to a distant land
Waiting for my dying breath to come
I am not a poet
And I do not intend to be
Rhymes are not my area of expertise
And life has no meaning to me