A short life


When I was born

I was small, sweet, and calm

Unknown from the world and from self

When I was three

I tried to be free but was put me behind the bars of tree

I tired to be stand, yet fell down again and again.

But never did I stop trying as there were hands to hold me.

When I was six

I tried to make my way fixed

But my poor mind went into a loop of distractions

When I was nine

Everything seemed fine

But I was still struggling to prove my existence

When I was tweleve

I tried to behave well

But the tiredness of this strange world had already caught me

And just like that it was almost time to bid good-bye

© Akhand Singh, 2004 © An Empty Glass, 2004

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