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Caught in the Cobweb!

The yellow leaves sticking to the branches of the old tree were blowing along with the evening breeze.There were many happy children in the park, standing on the swings, drifting down on the slides, some fighting with the other, and some laughing along with their cheerful parents. And there were the balloon and ice-cream sellers catching up with their everyday business. A few yards away, there were two kids walking by the platforms of the narrow streets, through cans of trash,sprawling hags and street dogs. 

They were secretly carrying small packets of white powder some of which had been delivered to a few children in the park. Those children had ,at first been bullied and forced to take such packets which they found to be quite mysterious. But once they started consuming them, they got addicted and their bodies shivered without it. They found that, they weren't themselves without it and they could do anything to have it, just to see the packet of opium in their hands. Initially, they started stealing a few bills from their parents' wallets and later as their demands increased, they started selling those packets themselves and buying opium from the money they earnt. 

Initially, they were lonely, without anyone to care, stuck in self-pity, depressed without an outlet of emotions, unable to relate to other people and seemed to be stuck like an ant in the cobwebs of a disturbed life. But in the company of the mysterious little packet, they found themselves to be at ease, they needed not the love of caring hands, the happy company of peers, the fun of play, nor sunshine, nor the whole earth, but only the white powder. It seemed to be, they were the best of friends, it seemed to help them, spreading peace in their lives, but in reality, they are the biggest waves of tsunami, the vilest of enemies and the sole detriments of their lives.

 Only a very few manage to crusade their way out of such addictions and they are to be heartily cared for and distracted out of such acts. The children stuck in such addictions are not to be shredded or hated, but  in reality, they yearn to be caressed by loving parents, they long to be in the company of helpful friends.They are the ones who deserve to be caressed and imparted love on.

Comments

  1. Quite rightly said. How on earth did you think of writing this one? Just curious.

    Joy always,
    Susan

    ReplyDelete
  2. :) Thanks a lot! :) Quite a weird one to write on I suppose! I really don't have an answer to your question!! :D

    ReplyDelete

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To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

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I'm too shallow to write a verse

I'm too shallow to write a verse To wrap around the twists and turns To dwell unto my own, I do Living somebody else's life or my own? Shrouded under piles of thought, I scribble, thinking only of the applause.
I'm too shallow to write a verse or two To make ends meet, I'm too cuckoo. I'm not the classic, scratching blue wooing 'em, tearing 'em apart  with every word.
I'm not the one who rhymes nor the one with notes for those lyrics. I'm the one who scribbles blotching blue on all my troubles, roiling over moments back and forth, trying to string those stray words, into at least a doggerel. See, I don't make sense.  I told you, I'm too shallow to pen that sonnet, that ballad, that haiku, that refrain, that ode.
I'm forcing it out all that gibberish snowballed  unto mine, to chime and rhyme  but nevertheless I realise in time, I'm to shallow to be read over cheese and wine.