For a Perfect Life

A running poem was
condemned to die. I will not change
the route. You know the art of breathing last.

Uneasy, you never returned
for confession. The fear eats away
like a virus. You belonged to me.

No strings. We are tied
by sacred words, like swans. We
are intertwined by necks to stay alive.

In spite of several constraints and pain some people stand for their principles thogh others quit the true course of action.        

Rajendra Singh Baisthakur , Nellore, AP, 524003