Not because
anxiety had iced up in my mind
Not because
I couldn't read it,  like a Chinese child to urdu
Not because
It was pinned, like pinions of peacock
In a diary, in my mouth
Not because
Its edged hands trimmed my fingers
Not because
Its lion-eyes had made me feeble and fawn
Not because its colossal physique had mowed me down
Not because
Its wide jaw had masticated my hands
But because it had **** my hope
Even of a beautiful moment
And had turned my only bowl of comfort turtle
And had snatched my last spoon of happiness