Poetry, Quill

Superficiality of death

The world thus comes to life,

Yet death still lurks on the pretty face,

Of a mother that just lost her child,

The mourning done, all rituals over,

What next? But the void still exists!

She did everything she could,

Yet nothing changed,

“His soul is at peace”,

Well, how do you know?

What proof do you have to say it’s so?

For all these people,

That never knew her child,

That knew of his existence,

Only AFTER he died,

What good must come from this facade?

The world still keeps turning,

As it should,

And she is now alone,Her hope lost for good…

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______ Children’s Day

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On this felicitous Children’s Day, other than cheering you a wish, I place forth you a humble request, rather a plea to free the chained child in you.

The child tied up in chains of misery, locked in the name of one’s ostensible social image and crumbled under the workload.

The child, who’s morsels still try to escape through your dry tear glands, the child who’s laugh still haunts those deaf ears of yours.

The child you forgot exists.… a while ago, the child you forgot still breathes…. a while ago and indeed revive the one many killed…. a while ago.

Please unshackle that child still wandering in your hollow soul, please unchain that child still craving his lost home.