Pain And Writing

So much I have written with the word ‘'I'' Now I feel I have mutilated myself many times In many ways into many pieces in many shapes and sizes Yet the suffering of pain has not gone into air rather It has rebounded back at the maximum To get relief again I sit down to write Thus the circle of pain and relief goes on So are the pieces of myself and the pieces of a poem In one of my poem I was a beggar and was begging alms From door to door for being a child of street god Or a female fetus with folded hands appealed to be pardoned Form the sins I have never done I also applied on me the feeling when I was a goat Tied tight to a strong pole with a rope to be sacrificed In the name of fake ceremonies and false gods