A Poem!

I am a poet, who wear bullet proof vest
I am a poet, who is afraid of stray bullets
I am a poet, who dies every night with his words;
And I am a wasted poet.

Siroy Lily was sweetheart,
I have had a photo of it.
Now I have another fence,
And few more graves.

That day, I proposed a Thangkhul Girl
Today, I know a Meitei widow
And my mother wants me to marry
But the girl is caught in the curfew.

I am a poet.
I know I can write poems in hurry
I know I can chide them all
Guns, roses, condoms and strikes
But I am not sure
If I am afraid?

A cozy gun, hidden below my pillow
Another rose in my garden
And few used condoms in streets;
A frightened poet isn’t enough,
I know strikes are coming.