Stich

A tag of war of rivals amid reciprocals sways
My head and heart on floating question stains
Innocent, naive which might will I surrender to?
Whose aroma will my sense be persuaded to?

Pushing and pulling I felt so defenseless
I had no power over my obedience
The inconsiderate thieves snatched my right
I couldn't craft my step, a move and an answer

How precious am I whose worth is to be robbed?
An offer like a blood to a thirsty vampire throat
What am I? A hand-friendly ball
Elastic from anyone's hand security

How I wish my mouth wasn't stitched
I could shout like an echoing bell kinetically
Their ears would be plucked angrily like a gong
Frightened, choice less - they returned my presence

- Nirmohi