I lived in my home
As a prisoner
Without any crime.
No guns, no torture—
Just breathing, just surviving.
Being a loner,
I usually knew how to emphasize:
I wasn’t a prisoner, but a ghost
Whose soul never found a place
To feel satisfied.
In spite of remaining in quest for so long,
I know my era will come.
The wait will end;
I will be free one night.
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Author:
Shriya Tiwari (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 11th, 2025 02:19
- Comment from author about the poem: A glimpse into the quiet isolation of a soul waiting for freedom. Sometimes invisible, often overlooked, yet holding onto the hope that one night, release will come.\r\n
- Category: Sad
- Views: 1
Offline)
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