‘Of loss, of dreams’

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 10, 2018

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Submitted: June 10, 2018

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They accepted all things that couldn’t be changed,
But I couldn’t accept,
I objected it, I was suffered from it,
My friends lost themselves-
for the sake of it,
They couldn’t urge for learning,
They also opposed to surviving,
 As labours or, as night labours,
Their elder brothers were forced-
To hold the wetted responsibilities –
Darkness- sorrows- superstitions and some had to-
Accept death too. But.
My dreams were more curious than me-
-to speak against and vanish it,
He, my best fellow of life,
Was a dreamer and he lost-
His dreams but his dreams were
Alive in my dreams.
 
I was angry with them,
And speaking against their rituals or,
Traditions of death or death of my friends,
Of their dreams or, our company.
Do I conceal my sad being?
Myself said ‘No’ my friends said ‘No’
‘You are our dream now.’
when I was beaten,
My mother wept for me,
And cured my injurious soul whole night.
 
The uplift of both beings was in ‘One dream’
She said ‘You couldn’t tell them well’
I stood up from my home yard,
And moved to fields,
Those barren, dry, treeless, birdless,
Hopeless but as mother said,
I spoke aloud there,
I promised to be human,
For them who considered me –less human or,
An animal- I thought
I would be at a beautiful place,
And my friends will happy.
To see me here,
As free being for eighty weeks,
Doing my favourites, hobbies
Living, existing as not less human,
But as human.

Or, I think I live as a human being as wished.


© Copyright 2018 Kishan. All rights reserved.

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