Poem by Syedah Maryam Iqbal
He was not killed but imprisoned,
From childhood to maturity.
His imprisonment haunted him,
As the unseen started visiting him.
He listened to voices known and unknown, living and dead,
Alarming him about the lurking dangers outside the bars.
He cried and cried,
But his cries fell on deaf ears.
Although now an adult, but still a child,
Hoping to have mercy of others,
Always frightened of coming death,
But he already met death in life,
The room was his grave all those years.
He accepted his captivity and chains.
His only blunder was his eligibility to be a king.
Maddened, maddened, maddened,