Yesterday.

The world was perfectly playing with its own game, revolving within its role in the universe. And every existence struck within its peaceful face, seen as though everyone minded on their lives, crafting every memory, of laughter, fun, and happiness, while hiding every hue of frustration, oppression and dismal.

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(This is a poem I posted last Jan 17 in the online free articles directory. Every content has been maintained. This had been gaining viewers, which I did not expect how it had ended up to such an extent. I hope this would catch a lot of your attention. Enjoy reading. Thanks for the unconditional support.)

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I was walking along that dim, strange sidewalk, when a flock of hungry bats obstructed my way. With no hesitation, I tried to capture one but never made it. With that striking hunger vicious in their eyes, it flew over me, and flogged me, bit me one by one, until the pain covered my capacity for reckless feedback. It stole my strength, blaming on me my weakness.

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I used to feel that I know my own limits, and in me lay the concept of what I am to become, of what I want to be part of, of what I will be doing in the near future, of what I think would be nice for me, of how my fears would start to end its dreary situation, of which way will I choose next.

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Those phrases, a construction of words soothingly echoing back and forth into my ear, wherein she would try to interfere in the blissful sleep of the morning.

Always the topic discussion of the House. When will I learn to comply with the discipline of forcing myself to stand up in the middle of the chilly dawn? When will I grow up?

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