I’m Not Dead

A new twilight I see each day,
Through the echos of broken mirrors,
The whites are all blood stained,
The lights are getting dimmer

The wounds are fresh and open,
The glass so clear and sharpened,
As they pierce through my skin,
The pain I feel, deepens

Every step that I take,
Leaves a mark in red,
Every move I make,
reassures me, I’m not dead

Seldom a thought seeds in my mind,
What if, just what if,
This is the end of line,
Am I close to achieving the heavenly bliss

Would I be running away from my sin,
Or is it the price to pay,
Was I always living,
Or dead did I lay…

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

3 Comments on "I’m Not Dead"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Dr. K.S. Bhardwaj
Member

The poem brims with existentialism and keeps the poet active in spite of all odds. Congrats Rajat.

Shamala Chandran
Member

Nice thoughts expressed here….what is this life and where are we going?

wpDiscuz

Do Not Do That To Me

Do Not Do That To Me short poem

whenever they need something I gave them with pleasure as I am there mother mother river without me they wont be able to live I always stand by their side this is my oath to never leave them alone but

God Doesn’t Hear Dead Men

God Doesnt Hear Dead Men short poem

Down the drain, down the drain, follow the sand down the drain. His soul woven cloak awaits, scythe in hand, ferry leaving the docks. Crooked steps, cold and blackened breath, take me unto you. One leg in the grave, half

Dare Not Stare At Me

Dare Not Stare At Me short poem

Don’t you stare at me like that how can I look back at you on seeing your moist Eye reluctant to burst out I know it is terrible to lose someone so close to your heart but It is equally

Not Ten Feet Toll

Not Ten Feet Toll short poem

Entering the room consumes all in the boardroom All eyes rise all phones are placed down without a groan or a sound Walking in proud owning the floor just walked on for sure endowed Honing the sharp minds for the

Happiness Made Not Found

Happiness Made Not Found long poem

She dusts her memories with thoughts and prayers for those she left behind. Longing for them like ebb and tide. She spins looms of love laden with smiles and hope And somersaults days into nights tossing her old life into