THE LOSS....




Somebody clipped his wings,
Red blood springs
From his shoulders,
Deep cut marks from a coulter 
Hurt and pain,
Making it impossible to gain
Lost strength and vigour,
His face losing all smiles and cheer.



His feathers plucked,
All his energy sucked, 
His flight stopped,
His freedom robbed,
Now he understood
Bleeding in pain as he stood,
The brutality of his acts,
When ruthlessly on the feminine he cracked.



He had brutalised quite a few,
Prevented them when they flew,
Breaking their wings, stopping them,
All their freedom he condemned, 
Leaving them in pain, all numb,
In fear, muted and dumb,
Their hearts bled,
For all his misdeeds they cursed.



Today he felt their pain,
Alas! In vain,
For whatever was done,
Could not be now undone,
Although he wished to retract
There was no way to detract
All the pain that he had caused,
Thinking he trembled and shuddered.



Now he will never fly,
Never be able to touch the sky,
Losing his freedom to a few brutes,
He now understood his attributes,
His loss made him feel his cruelty,
All his actions demeaning and faulty,
He stood bleeding and abashed,
At his doings now ashamed, completely smashed.

©Madhumita