#Draft

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There it stands with eyes full of hope, longing, belonging, heart ajar
Why does it forget it is but a Dragon, lonesome, bereft, scared, far
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cool breeze brushes past her face, she can see bright lights, the sky
and theres a longing to break free but freedom, these walls, deny

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with hurt and wrath and fury galore
thats when the dragon will freely soar

‘Being’ Human

Innocence, joy, beauty divine
Trust, purity, Virtuous shine

Then gradually takes off, the sojourn
See, hear, pick up, learn

Busy roads, their fussy rodeos
Who dies who cares, go on, no slows

Impatience, intolerance, screech, cry
Scheme, plot, on the sly

Trash White, Mint Green
Hollow within, exterior sheen

Unabashed skill, matchless thrills
In ‘hunting’ down the ‘goods’ and ‘wills’

Merciless, it's all cut throat
A rider surrenders? Ridicule, gloat

Sceptics cynics egotists
Cloaked loathers, ain’t no bricks

Rusting bones, strained muscles
Bearing on unending tussles

Alas! This all is but a rat race
They fell from mount, we fall from grace.

Irony?

~Then
With each passing hour the frustration builds
With each passing day the talents burn
Just want this tragedy to end
Just want to leave to never return...

~Now
With each passing hour the desire escalates
With each passing day the strivers yearn
Don't want this rigour to cease at all
Don't want an end to this sojourn...

The bigger irony is was I happier then or am I happier now? The hurt then was different from what it is now, but its been there all along.

If Only

That was the time not long from now
When I had witnessed how
Her unsound mother had wounded her,
In hope of stirring pity
I looked around for someone to rescue the poor soul
From this heartless severity
But the policeman there had cruelly laughed
Quite indifferent to her cries
And in my mind the picture got painted
Of the helplessness and anguish in her eyes



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her at the dawn
When I am fresh from morning brew
There’s hope and bounce in my gait
She lays there with eyes sunken and pale
From this pain she is outworn

I cry for her, I pray for her,
For she’s just a kid of four
If Only my tears could bring to her
The glow of morning dew
If Only my prayers could wipe away her worries
As waves on a pleasant sea shore



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her at midday
As I look through my air conditioned cabin
Gloating over my dessert plate
She stands there bearing charring sunlight,
For a drop of cool water she does wait

I cry for her, I pray for her,
Quite deaf to her cries of pain
If Only my tears had the power
To quench her thirst for life
If Only my prayers could promise her
That He’d soon conclude this strife



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her every night
As I retreat to my cosy abode
She sits there in the biting cold, alone with her woeful plight

I cry for her, I pray for her,
I see in silence the asperity she endures
If Only my tears could give her the warmth
A mother’s embrace gives to her child
If Only my prayers could bear away
The soreness of that hard floor



The little girl at the junction there
I see her day in day out
She’s at the junction of life and death
Her silent screams shout out