Poetry

I am, but me.
Entrapped in a cage, you see.
Someone thinks they love me.
All I feel is hatred.
Seeing, hearing and looking at you,
makes me feel so blue.

My life is mine.
Only for me.
I am not a possession,
a toy or thing.
I'm sick of being a prisoner,
in you cold, unfeeling heart.
I am but me.
If you loved me, see me free.


21.3.2012 Ibrar Siddiqi