Sorry.

This time I was late,

To realize my tragic fate,

I went to say the final words,

I went to save my inner world,

But as I said: I was late!

When I  reached:

I saw a face:

Cover with blood and pain,

I went to her,

To say the word,

Which I never said at first,

Then I saw,

My word meant nothing,

As deadbody needs nothing,

My words healed nothing,

And I meant nothing,

Now I heard saying something: 

To myself to heal myself,

The word ‘sorry’ comes to tongue,

But it was too late to heal my world.

Time to time, I remind myself:

I would’ve save my world,

If I had not waited for her to say a small word.

© 2016 | Bisma Alam, All rights reserved.

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