With his mother in a town lived a curious child
One day some questions popped up in his mind
The world is so big and my feet are small
How will I be able to cover it up all?
How will my tiny eyes understand other’s pain
Or single out teary faces under the rain?
To wipe those tears my hand is feeble and weak
How will it clear the distraught drenched cheek?
My mind won’t be able to catch up the train
Of thoughts of people who call themselves sane
How will I replace my smile with a frown
Like all men and women thriving in the town
To let every dark cloud easily pass
Stoicism and strength how will I amass?
Like you how will I be able to hide my scars
For people to peep in , my heart will be ajar.
One day everyone will leave me at the eleventh hour
And venom of malice is all that they’ll shower
In this obscure dusky world of overgrowns
Taking every breath will be a great milestone
Among hushed up voices my thoughts I won’t shout
If I’ll be able to survive that way I really doubt.
Isn’t it true that living in the world as a grown-up among those Grownups is not as good as it seems. Do you think that way too? Or is there a brighter side to your story? Don’t forget to drop your precious comments.
And if you pen down your version do let me know.