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Jun 2013
I wish every now & then,
You could pinch me,
To make me feel real,
To make me believe,
That this is really my life.

I had been just been existing,
All happiness which was gone,
One significant event was fresh,
Both in my memory & my flesh,
It was just existing & not living,
I just had nothing positive left,
Everything wasn't just right.

Let Me Narrowly Narrate My Story

I was born the only child,
I grew up as a lonely child.
Parents are both working 9 to 6,
Parents barely had any time for me.
I spent hours alone talking to my toys,
I even talked to myself while playing,
I gave birth to my imaginary brother,
He wept when I cried complaining,
Everywhere the two of us were together,
I complained to him about mom-dad,
I complained about their shouting matches,
But my imaginary brother died,
He died with the basket of toys,
He was buried inside the basket of toys,
And the basket was given away as I grew up,
His favourite toy car was mine too.

I read in four high-schools & two colleges,
I missed my last set of buds only for a while,
Then I got busy with my newer schoolmates,
Forgotten was I by my previous schoolmates,
They were forgotten by me as well along time,
For days I missed them but not for a long time,
But when I stop to think I can't find a stability.

I finally reached college after finishing school,
I almost completed two years & met an accident,
I almost died but survived a 23-day long coma,
I spent a year isolated at home then recovering,
I prayed that time be kind & let me start college,
I came to know this from the previous college,
I had to then change my college in mid-course,
I had to abandon all my hard-earned friends,
I had to forget about the social service society,
The physical pain was little helpful distraction,
The mental agony from changes was greater.

Maybe bad luck is destined for me

This is what I used to think and move on,
But I met you and everything just changed,
And I love such sweet-ticklish soft changes,
Now I just want this change to stay lifelong,
Just like my accident scars & the birthmarks.
My HP Poem #318
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl
Written by
Àŧùl  33/M/Gòràkhpùr - Bháràŧ
(33/M/Gòràkhpùr - Bháràŧ)   
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   swati mehra, Zoe, Hilda, Kripi, --- and 4 others
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