The Little BoyA Poem by UmaMere fiction.
His life was languid
Around him, was colour Colour to everything, except him. Orphaned at four, his life knocked over. His fate left hanging on the brim. Looking at every pair of intertwined hands, One big, the other small, The bigger one protectively wrapped around the little one, The emptiness in him dug deeper, stabbing him over and over again. All he craved for was love in the end. Alone in a city, enthralled by its beauty No one to go to, no one to hold Never had he felt so abandoned In an abundant cluster of struggling lives. The wishes he threw in the well were ungranted What did he know about the reality that hit him so hard? What kind of love would be known by a boy who was so marred? The nightmares didn't stop, and neither did the wrecked demons that tortured him to death. He woke up with the sun with very little faith. The sun rays failed to light up his chamber of darkness His existence unwanted, he was a mess. No inspiration, no goals, The little faith he had was blown. The days grew darker The seeds of emptiness had grown Into monstrous trees with ruthless branches That choked him, Tightening around his dying life, And strangled his soul Till his breathing slowed to a halt. The little boy who never got a chance, Surrendered to life, still feeling at fault. © 2017 UmaReviews
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3 Reviews Added on June 30, 2017 Last Updated on June 30, 2017 Author
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