Where I Work
I work here,
Collecting sins of soulless souls.
Who had covered them from some sore skins
And their tongue naked,
I don’t know, why?
I work here,
In this weird game where I’m the judge
To judge between wrong and wrong.
For nothing I work in this dismal earth,
I don’t know, why?
I work here,
Where the bleaks and I live together,
But like oil in the water, I am
Where I cannot merge with them,
I don’t know, why?
I work where,
in dark mournful place!
I sign the pages of sins unknown
Making the puppets of liars
In the depth, a burning earth more than sun
Oh thou painful sins! I blame to thee
Another raging sun; all ‘cause of me
But I don’t know why?
poem by Ravin Sharma
Added by Poetry Lover
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