Poetry · Reading time: 1 minute


I wished to become a part of history,
So I tried to create the one my own.
I wished to write the cinder’s story,
so I burnt my life in cooling hailstone.

I tried my best to float along the streams,
Which refused to carry me along with flow.
All my shrieks and uncountable screams,
Could only force the shores hit me blow.

My youth days spent in queer distress.
Boundless sorrow no man can guess.
How burdensome is the mind of a tree,
Could noisy chirping guess grief of a lea?
How much deep is the wound of a lake,
Can skilled diver ever measurement make?


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