Hundreds of poets
Living inside me
Some are mature but master
in hiding the truth
Some are kids but write frankly
Some speak in mother tongue
but feel a foreign. Some decided
to migrate to an odd, faraway land
and never came back. They
inspire my poems
Some are believers, some not
They argue every so often
I’m not so interested in binging
on their hot bitter coffee
Anyhow, they never invite me
A few numbers are prisoners
Life-sentenced in the skull
Afraid to rebel against my heart
A few jailers too, grumpy, sullen
Control the mind from stem to stern
I lost some of them, when
they tried to pass the borders
And lost some more, when
a few tricksters promised them
a better life in a dream world
I don’t remember how often
they all stand on one thing agreed
I failed to bring them together
for writing a masterpiece but my poem
amalgamates the distinct pieces
More at https://soodabehpoems.wordpress.com/.
