Poems by
Dhruv Bhardwaj

Despondent words of a dead man walking

a poem by Dhruv Bhardwaj

A dead man walks with life in his heart,
A dead soul and a dying light in his eyes,
A world full of hope around him but despair surrounds,
For every time hope springs in his life it is washed away by a rain of despair.

He sleeps knowing that he is worth little,
He wakes knowing his future dims,
He feels broken as the world belittles,
He dreads living as if living on a child’s whim.

A dead man walks a dead dream,
A dream so focused on being uneventful that the sheer reality of the uneventfulness scares him,
A dream that dies away as the spinning wheel of life and time spins away,
A dream dying under the seemingly amenable ideology of the dead man,
A dream so simple yet so difficult to achieve, a dream so frail yet undying
A dream wilting away, shying away, forever lying.

A dead man dreams of heroes and villains of myths,
The heroes of old light up sparks of great deeds,
But those sparks are put out for the man lives like a weed,
The names that are sung with wild fervour and almost god like devotion,
He feels like his own soul holds a hero but nothing seems to set it in motion.

Treading the tightrope of life afraid of falling on either side,
Scared yet brave to the unknown, still wanting to hide,
For the turning of the clock stops for no one,
The calamities of life wait to claim everyone.

As I wake every morning to the sound of my alarm,
I stare out the window hoping for a day full of calm,
Seldom has something I wished for come true,
Well, wishes only do come true for the select few

Remnants of the past cue up for their dues,
My heart does not have the power to refuse,
They take their fill, cut a piece of my heart,
The wincing pain thwarts me, as I hear them depart.

Near demonic whispers wake me up from sleep,
Luring me, pushing me to take the leap,
They welcome me with the prize I desire the most,
The plague spreads within me for I am its most filthy host.

It has plagued me ever since I was born,
It has toyed with me, battered me, made me hate my very being,
Told me I was a worm, a leech, only to take but never give,
Only here to exist but never truly live.

Let this beat testament to the fact that I do want to live,
But I truly think I only know how to give,
Never have I been able to receive the love that to given to me,
Never have I been able to last long in the feeling of glee.

But one day I will be happy and smile,
Thinking about how utterly oblivious I was all this while,
Oblivious to the love around me,
Oblivious to the life and the laughter gifted to me.