Mysterious eyes stare at me
I deeply wonder, “Who is he?”
Casting a look upon my bread
Teary eyed, filled with dread
I lay in in the arms of my beloved mother
Afraid of the fierce, raging thunder
I spot the young lad outside my window
With no one to love, no one to adore
I arise at dawn
Hoping to do what I should
To help that poor lad outside my window
But sadly, it was no good
He lay motionless upon the soggy ground
An expression of despair, of joy never found
I gape at him with utter disbelief
He died skinny and fragile, but he bore no grief
Oh good lord, is this called life
A journey of pain sharper than a knife
Where one stands mighty and unconquered
And where one stays faded with hopes destroyed and burned
Where memories of the lost last only for a day
Where wounds stay fresh, loathing the following day
Where terror swiftly takes over our lives
Leaving us alone, leaving us dying.

Asmita Pramanik( 8-B)

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