All the promises expected from parents from infant
All the promises expected from alphabeta from those cruel eyes
Fresh tears trickling like a waterfall
Am I cursed?
Probing the mind
Stench of smoke oozing
Off it goes into thin air like those dreams
Those dreams of tender years
All gone to waste
What can I do?
What does the future hold?
Suicide is the best option
To leave this sorrowful world
To leave a world which has brought more harm
Wishing the ground could swallow him up
But if wishes were horses beggars might ride
Like a prodigal son coming back home
Looking up to the sky
A world beyond
He is gone
They all come
Shedding crocodile tears
As if they cared