I hold onto
like they're precious
my ego
my anger
my vanity
my dignity
my belief
my faith
miles of them
they would need reams of paper
to be written
and when stacked high
could be seen only
MY.
MY
the self ruthless
wiping out your face!
Pradip Chattopadhyay
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-26/
