Clock Strikes

And at last I heard the melody, the melody of life I heard,
As when the small schoolboy had cried of class being over and jumped,
It was of joy no doubt for him, and this of joy too,
Amidst all the sorrows which I came through, the joyful sorrow was here too.
It played the tune, the tune which was,
May be for others only a ring,
But in my ears they echoed, echoed innumerable times,
Echoed so much it made me sing.
Sing the joys I had with me, although alone I lived so long,
And though others had pointed me to be, I never had thought that I was wrong,
The cell here in which I lived, lived for the past two fortnights,
Hadn’t been able to instill in me, instill in me those frights,
And then I heard the setting, the setting of the mikes,
And that was what was to happen I knew, when that old clock strikes.
I know what they will do now, do what they do always,
And someday another, I will go through, the same clock strike one day.
The crowd gathers, as if a show begins, with curtains too for sure,
And wait for the behead of the one who did, bloody things pure.
Days have passed since I last heard it, I know today is mine,
I talk to myself that this is the last time I witness the sands of time.
For in an hour or so my head will be somewhere or the other,
And my body will crave when it looks at it, but will only get a shudder,
When it realizes that it can’t play the way it on streets bumped,
As when the small schoolboy had cried of class being over and jumped.

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