THE TYRANT'S TERRAIN
By Guest Blogger Subhasree Bose

Resting my head,
On my weary hands,
I sit alone in the corner of the lane.
Gazing and gazing in the darkness,
I sit starved ,for food ;
And a roof to rest.

Helpless am I, sitting lonely,
Surviving cold that tears me,
I fight for an inch of life,
For another time, another chance to revive me.

Surrounded by riches,
I ruled some years ago,
Making puppets of human beings, I know.
Greed vanity, jealousy was bathed,
In every mind, that I had met.
Laughter was filled ,in life that thrilled,
While sorrows peaked to make its way.
Carved in gold my spectre lay,
On the head that shattered hopes.
Plenty I saw wherever I went,
But starved were they,
For whom I did not care.

I Trampled souls,
In the path of my glory,
And adorned my rule,
With carcasses of many.
Cursed was I ,to the core of my breadth,
But arrogance had never left.

A calamity ,I am,
A curse,I am,
For time has now, made its say…