If I Die Held Down In A General Mart by Kushal Poddar

I am not a silent poet

Sorry I let you down.
You cannot
keep me caged anymore.
I should stay beneath you
some more, alive.

Sorry, I’ll die of fear.

My hands uncurl, release
the last of my longing,
and it rolls down the long aisles
towards the racks
you array your
almost expired items on sale.

They confuse me
with ranges and picks.
Which one I should die for?
Which one you should say I stole?
My mother always says,
someday I’ll make a fatal choice.

Sorry, I don’t know what I want.

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