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I am sincerely sorry for being an absentee in my own life. You probably don't know me or even care about my existence, nor do you find relevance in my apologetic attempt to reconcile my fruitlessness. But I feel strongly compelled to apologize for my stagnation:

I come from a pond across the way from you. A stowed away break in the trees where the sun only shines for a brief time at noon and disappears for the rest of the day. The birds don't sing their song of sixpense, nor do the fish splash or the frogs belch their symphony. Even the crickets scream as loud as the mimes at the circus. For nothing enters and nothing leaves, so why do you even bother?

I only write to you for what could have been, and pray for forgiveness for what hasn't been. I understand that the act of "what if"s is a waterfall of tears cascading into an abyss, but I find that this journey is a necessary evil.

So what if I made a splash today in my pond, the ocean of things that I can actually control. Sent ripples across the pond and stirred the fish into commotion. The frogs join in the chaos with their symphony  and maybe the crickets, after hearing the low bass of croaking, decide to join in with their rhythm that awakens the birds from their deep slumber. In response, the birds spring up with their joyous melody and the ensemble of nature creates an exuberant noise in a previously dull and dim place. Such a thought that one tiny splash can dictate a tremendous ensemble, such that if you took your thoughts off of your own life for a split second you could possibly be splendidly surprised by burst of nature from an insignificant source. Such small fractions of life can create mesmerizing sound waves that make you a little happier today.

It seems so simple to create, just a whispering splash. Yet I have failed to create a single note that is audible to the outside world.

There are two plausible reasons for my plight: Either the noise I attempt to create is so insignificant to the outside world that more significant amplifications exceed my own capacity to make sound or the world is just simply not listening anymore.

No matter how many times you cry out, jump up and down in the pond and scream your head off at the world; the ripples aren't forming. The waves don't crash on the shore and one is left standing invisible in the center of a drowning amount of commotion.

And if you are reading this, you are the anomaly that has slipped through the sound barrier to hear this silent song.
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­This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " अपराधबोध" published in pratilipi (Feb. 2019)
Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2l4MIXz
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Today all of Sudden, I do remember again
The time that has elapsed since long
The bygone lovely childhood
The yesterday that has passed
The good old childhood friends.
I do remember some blurred faces
whose names, I couldn't recall

I do remember my teachers
Still in the same look and form
I remember their scolding
I remember happiness on their faces
I even remember their angry faces
Their orders to stand up on the bench
Their punishment to pose as a rooster

I do remember now
The essence of their teachings
I followed all their teachings
But I had to suffer a lot
So, I packed them all tied them in a knot
And thrown them all into the trash can.

This is not an allegation against my teachers
That their teachings are not valuable
But, I discovered, I was not capable
To follow their valuable teachings.
In this modern era of practicality
There is no respect for human values
Human values have been deteriorated
Due to changing definitions of the words
The whole dictionary has changed.

I admit I have committed crime against my teachers
Since I left the righteous path shown by them
And followed another easy path on my own
But what else could I have done?
I had no power to change the present era -
I alone do not have the courage to be an era-rebel
So, I gave up the right path and followed another one

But may be, inspite of this  
my teacher may forgive me
But can I forgive myself?
No! Not at alI, I don't have this right
After getting pardon from my teacher
The gravity of my crime doesn't decreases

So by the way if my teachers pardon me
Even then, I can't be free
From the guilt
I must have to live
Bit by bit, Suffocatingly
This will be my punishment
Yes, this will be my punishment.


Sometime or the other, Everybody feels guilty. Do You????
Enas Sep 22
I am so sorry.

For every time I hurt you..

For every cruel word I’ve ever said to you..

For not seeing what you needed most..

For not being kind to you as much as everyone else..

For every tear you have wasted..

For every time I stepped on your heart..

For every time I didn’t believe in you..

For every time I didn’t listen to you.

I am so sorry.

For ripping you apart..

For destroying the beautiful things in you..

For always making you pay the price..

And I apologise for all the wrongdoings I caused you!

Forgive this fallible human that is you.

I am so sorry.
Quinn Adaire Sep 15
I haven’t been here for a while
To make all my readers smile
I used to write every day
Guess that went away,
Anyway
I’m sorry!
Because I haven’t wrote for a while.
Ray Dunn Sep 9
you can taste the sorrow
on my lips—
forming my mouths apology,
before i could.
i’m always guilty about taking up my boyfriends time even though i love him with every fiber of my being
“I’m sorry”
I whisper.  Over. And over.
A reflex when things are not okay.
Because no matter what I’m always to blame.
This like
A
Related
Sister
#antipoem

Is
Not
Really
A
Poem

It's more like
Me
Saying

Hi
Person
Holding
This
Phone

I am
Not
Sober

Any
Photo
We
Probably
Sent
You

We are
So so
Sorry
For

Same of course
For video
Voice messages
**** dial
Sobbing
Sounds
But no one is responding
So your not sure if it's a
Hope
Or like
Did someone
Die?

Wowww
I'm
Not
Sober
Creator Sun Sep 3
Sorry doesn't cut it does it?
But it does.

It cuts into my skin, leaving trails of red,
Of crimson, of burgundy
Of a shameful, deep red.

I'm sorry, but you don't understand, do you?
You never do.

The rope feels inviting against my neck.
Oh how it fits my head!
Its forgiving roughness hugs my throat,
And I can't help but croak:

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you were never here to help me;
I'm sorry that I never felt happy;
I'm sorry that you caused me to do this
To me, to myself.

Sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

Now, you feel sorry.
You cry those **** tears of shame.
Tears that had pooled around my eyes
And grew, day by day.

You're sorry.

But sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

I'm already gone;
And you're here to stay;
With your sins of hate
And your late apology.

Sorry doesn't cut it.
So I felt that the previous poem was a bit messy, so here is another one. Sorry.
Amulya Sep 2
I made mistakes,
But so did you too.
A random one...
I know this is completely outta context but I can't upload my profile pic.Y'all can't do it too?
Allesha Eman Aug 31
It looks like adversity has gotten the better  of me.
I’m bruised, exhausted but I can hardly sleep.
The sun is unforgiving as it steals my shade.
Now I’m vulnerable right in front of your face.
My heart is always racing whenever I’m day dreaming.
My mind often floats away to another place.
I can’t seem to forgive you, I can’t seem to forget,
but I’ve been chasing your apologies alongside all my regrets.
It’s what makes me human when I’m running from your threats,
but your stare is so forgiving, your gaze floods my heart.
I’m lost in a trance that sets the world apart.
Trapped in my everlasting reality, but I found my way back.
Except, I forgot who I was on this endless rigid track.
I had it all wrong, now I’m the one to forgive.
I like to make myself the victim of your mindless tricks,
but dear time, you’re only playing your perfect role
Because it’s my fault,
I’m the one that forgot how to forgive my soul.
Letter #6 out of 26 letters to time
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