Your promises?!: A poem 

My wishes are not horses 

I have learnt to ride with the losses 

How the two-faced coin tosses 

There’s slavery in aspiration, we are not its bosses 

The miles add up to the marathon 

Is it victory at all in the race that was run? 

You can see who takes all that I’ve won 

Is there any consolation in the tyranny of the sun? 

Yet, happiness is not in the ensnared spoils 

Because the call of duty has all the sacred oils 

On the surface of sacrifice, it boils 

What you have for me does not fertilise my soil 

Belief in you is like the noise in a pub 

There’s too much drink and no nourishing grub 

Your promises to me are all your sin 

To me they sound as hollow as tin