Poetry

Poem: Four

By: Prathap Kamath

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As the fourth one
I always smelt victory,
mouth watering
standing close to the third,
but never had it.

The victory stand
had room only for three.

I lived in the middle land
between the wanted
and the unwanted.
From one side I looked
good, even admirable;
from the other,
pitied, even scorned.

I live under cover
because the curfew
has cast me out
ruling that wherever I appear
after the third
the whole shall be arrested
and locked behind the bars.

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Categories: Poetry

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3 replies »

  1. The dilemma of doing well and not yet making it… Feel like it’s a poem right out of my mind. A poem written for me.

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