Am I…

Am I... short poem

Am I tired of this life,

Or of words that are as lethal as knife.

Am I tired of being used,

Or upset with emphatic abuse.

Am I tired of being strong,

Or disgusted with the blames of wrong.

Am I tired of the word love,

Or the cruel intention they glove.

Am I crying in vain,

Or is it heart bleeding pain.

Am I this person who I have become,

Or have betrayals made me into one.

Fake smiles and wet eyes,

Are they my companions till the end of time.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

6 Comments on "Am I…"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Archana Sharma

Beautiful expression of pain….

Abhi J

touching! very well penned.

Reyvrex Questor Reyes

Questions about the self have pervaded the minds of the Philosophers of old. Even in these modern times, the self is still a mystery to contend with, amidst the new technology employed to unravel it. And add to it love, or the lack of it, the question becomes an enigma. Thought-provoking poem.


I Know Me

I Know Me short poem

It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The


I short poem

I left this world today I didn’t bother to pray I stormed the gates of heaven with delight I walked upon the pearly gold streets I was upset their was no one I knew I didn’t have a clue I

Once I Dare..

Once I Dare.. short poem

Once I dare… Once I dare to write my story, Memories crowded falling me weak… And words played hide and seek. Once I dare to lost in Love, brain went on compulsory leave… Mercifully, I survived of dying dive. Once

I Feel

I Feel long poem

I feel like I’m going to spin in circles. I feel like falling onto the grass and staring at the clouds. I feel like laughing and acting like a child. I feel like drinking alcohol and smoking some good stuff…

Yes I Am Black

Yes I Am Black long poem

I was born with a face less fair, God painted me with charcoal, they said! So by now you get it, I’m black! A progeny of the slaves, a colour of destruction and evil fate! My colour became my identity