wastepaperbasket

i am seated beside that inanimate wastepaper basket

where the façade of my life is rotting

within the rapacious dingy garrets

people prodding with pins of merciless words

dropping them on my head          also nails       ‘ah!’ I shout,

 “sorry, it’s for the wastepaper basket” they reply nonchalantly

vitiating my efficacy criticising

                                  “ what can a woman do?”

my life turned insipid                                 an inundation of excruciating pain

decked with abuses  scorns and scourges

i knit my life in the             vacuum                gathering the lost threads of life

                       stringing the cut strings with adroit and deft

                              picking up my life from garbage

                                  from the wastepaper basket

 

 

 

                          I am emptying the basket every time

                       But still all are busy filling it to the brim

                                     But I am emptying it…

        every time