Dear Ghalib | Poem


What have Shobo done?

To deserve other’s reality,

Amongst opened flying soul,

Who could not understand oneself,

Without words penning down.

You listen world unknowingly,

To alive something selflessly,

Which could save and destroy,

With a single mark of truth’s sword.

Bewildered, crushed, taken,

All shocked with world’s burden,

In empitness’, pains’, abuses’ force,

Mirza, would you reborn?

False truths, saving promises, confining in wait,

Shobo, could not bear more, Mirza.

Praying, believing, trusting the people’s wronged,

He asks for freedom, Ghalib.

What you behold for, Shobo?

Wait, patience, silent cries, advancement,

Surface him, Mirza?

Avenge him, Mirza?

Let him return, Mirza?



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