Doors
All around in circles and squares,In every laughter, in every pain,
These battered souls search for their doors,
With the unmarked key, in search of their homes.
Home is not anywhere they hang their hats,
It may not even be through the door up the stairs,
The hollow key they hold, shows no map, no signs,
Nor do their minds in this comic suspense.
So excluded from their waiting nest,
They seek pleasure in flesh and sweat,
Drowning away their emotions one by one,
In a web of illusions they call out their truth.
Tangled with riddles of love,
Lust, fear, pleasure and all they call life,
Forgetting their search, forgetting the doors,
That take them back to their homes.
Knowing not any longer one from the other,
Blinded by the lights of life,
These ghosts run in circles and square,
Forgetting to look beyond themselves.
by © Sreekesh Menon at
1:31 AM
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