Poem By Atta Ul Munim Zahid


Date: | Read: 201

I bleed, I write.
Blood became ink,
The chopped fingers,
Went calligraphing horror.

I bleed,
And no one saw,
The night was cruel,
Now the day is dark.

I cry,
For the painful scar,
Seeping in pain,
The blood looks rose.

My tears,
Made a river in front -
Folks crossed, washing their feet.

I writhed,
O! The pain of helplessness,
The death seemed easy.

I exist?
I was nowhere.
Are they alive?
Because the soul, keeps life.

I bleed and write
And no one knows me,
But I write,
I went writing…
For those, who can't cry,
Who can't write, like I wrote.

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About Writer

Atta Ul Munim Zahid, India

I am a class 12th student at TIAIN, Kulgam. I live in Dadipora, Kulgam.

Feedback: zapeela77@gmail.com

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