The Quiet Death Of Hope Poem by Shahzada Imtiaz Ali

In youthful hope I toiled with dream-fed eyes,
Through trials grim and studies long and stark;
Yet every triumph fades as sorrow sighs,
And emptiness devours each hopeful spark.

My hands have shaped ambition's stubborn clay,
My mind consumed by knowledge's fervent flame;
Still unfulfilled, I greet each morrow gray,
While shame and doubt enshroud my faltering name.

Within my breast sad scars rend me apart,
Each shattered wish like winter's chilling art;
My heart has poured its sorrowful plea,
A requiem for all that cannot be.

Now, bound by grief, I rest in solemn dread,
Declared as dead—no idle wish to tread.


Dr. Shahzada Imtiaz Ali
23-06-2025