Granted I’m free of all constraints, free of all bonds.
Granted I don’t need much from anyone, granted I’m my own ground
But did I really not deserve even a single letter in the mail. So many wishes to count the rest of the year
Favours, asked and showered, but when it mattered most, a no show
I often say if I die, many will cry but now I doubt myself.
The empty mailbox speaks volumes of where I stand, not enough words or effort to jot down on paper and send it across
It’s just a couple of dollars and you didn’t have enough to spare for me.
I want to understand but it is just so pitiful.
A mailbox empty of any wishes from people who claim to know my best.
Shifa Naseer 