Trapped, in this barren empty room,

Nothing here but the old full moon.

Screaming in pain, yelling in fear,

This pain is nothing new from here.

It crawls, it weeps,

It strings, it creeps.

My misery is their deceit.

It prowls, it hungers,

I weep, and plunder.

That gun is looking good to me.

One bullet, one head,

I wonder will it make me dead?

I cry, I weep,

I sleep, one week.

Grab the gun,

Hold it close.

Barrel resting,

On my throat.

Pull the trigger,

Set me free.

Make this misery leave me.

My hands they shake,

My finger squeeze that fateful steel,

Then suddenly I freeze I stop.

I put that gun back on the ground,

Slowly crawl back into my place,

And stare at the never-ending space.

I say to myself “no it’s not over.”

I’ll never let this be the end.

I’ll keep fighting on and on

I’ll never let it end like this.

They won’t win,

Cuz I won’t lose.

Not here.

Not now.

I’ll stay trapped here in this room.

Until the end,

When my life, finally, ends.

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Afzal Shauq's picture

sooo great idea you did in this poem... like to read again and again... thanks for your comments and hope you never stop sending me your love in words commneting poems and we share ideas... here is my mobile number +92 346 5455414...whats yours to send sms sometimes dearest friend