The unheard ‘news’ paper

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 16, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 16, 2016



I was born a paper,

To the metal machines of the old building’s baker.

They sent me and my siblings to printing press,

Showing a great career in media as a ‘news’paper


We boarded the rickety trucks

Where my siblings got dispersed and I was in pain,

I felt bad and sobbed in my heart and prayed to meet them again.


I then met a filthy man,

Who spoke of tattooing me black with ‘news’plan.

I revolted and said of remaining unbiased and clean,

He said it is journalism, where only ‘right’ gets glean.

You will pride yourself as the most truthful paper,

I felt lucky, for where has my destiny taken,

And prayed for my siblings for being forsaken.


I got myself tattooed in and out,

With politicians, film stars, criminals and talent scout.

From politics to business to sports to entertainment

Everything placed on my body in arrangement.


I was waken early the very next day

Placed in bunches in a rickety truck bay.

 I then reached a place where many people ran,

With my fellow papers in different tattoos.

I prayed of meeting my siblings

And luckily stumbled on few.

They too had become a ‘news’ paper

I was surprised to see their tattoo,

It was different and sometimes absolutely opposite.


They too were said that they were ‘truthful’ docs.

Then how could they be different yet opposite.

We realized that we were fooled,

‘Tattooed with lies’ and then used.

We thought to revolt but it was too late,

We were rolled, tied with rubber to our fate.


We were thrown in homes and offices,

People ran and picked us up with promises,

Their eyes sparkling with the ‘knowledge’ they gained.

With my heart which had a stinging pain.


I screamed and yelled to my best,

But they could not read me ‘between the lines’

They were deaf and blind,

With ears, eyes and mind.

 I still keep shouting between the lines,

Waiting for a man with wisdom signs.

Daily I get under the heap of other papers.

They all being cheated the way I was.

We wait for the day when somebody will listen

But our hopes are falling with each paper addition.


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