Who Am I? (2)

Dedicated to M Z Hossain Palash (Kaka) And Shahin

I know I’m no poet or a noteworthy bard,
I just need to write down these haunting words
to make them go away, for until I do it
I cannot rest from a raw and blunt agony.
I know I’m neither suffering from insomnia
I just need to stay up alone at nights
for not a single neuron in my weary nerves
would turn away for their love of the silence then.
Once the noise of life arrives at dawn, to sleep
I can close my eyes and shut the remaining senses down.
I know I’m no rebel nor an utopian great,
an outcast may be but hardly a threat.
I cannot take most of the mundane things for granted
but I can neither ask anyone to be myself.
I know I’m no Socrates the great Athenian,
though these gadfly urges do provoke me to fight
the system and walk towards hemlock just like him
instead of living with selfish indifference.
Yet nor I can call myself a fighter as well
for all I have is a bleeding pen in my hand!

5 thoughts on “Who Am I? (2)

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