The Dismal Portrait
A strange wall gazes as you cross it
The charm such, that you are forced to retrace your steps
You look at its edges
You look at its filth
You look at its rawness
You look at the dust time has gifted it
It stands in front of you
Staring down your soul
Do you see what it really is?
Do you see that it belonged to someone
Long long back perhaps
Today it is the dismal portrait
Of a life abandoned
Do you see the lonely cold breeze?
Do you feel the sorrow of the lone window?
Do you feel the distant yet powerful emotion?
This house is not a home
This place has seen a life
A life full of conflict, drama and pain
The past stands here under the veil of the present
The present hides in the garb of the edges of the past glaring out
This frame is one of the love torn
That beautiful feeling twisted and pulled apart by this cruel material world
There is no guilt, there is no regret
There is just that feeling of being discarded away
Unwanted, they walked over it to cross the bridge
This house is not a home
It’s a broken frame like the people to whom it once belonged
It was taken care of one day, the other day it mattered no more
Discarded off the prized possessions lie
Scattered in the filth of today
The foundation lies here still
But the roots have no caretaker no more.
The dismal frame stands in a corner of a dark street
In the hopes that someday, love would return
Family would return, joyful cheer will be back
A long time it has waited, dark and dusty it continues to walk its dark lonely path.
