Vallabh Savani is so kind and cute
Above all, ready to help any boot –
Low caste, low esteemed or kaput.
Love through his blood does overshoot
And sooths many Sankets who commute
Benevolence to all generations coot.
In dilemma and hassle, he is parachute;
Help for a friend; foe and faulty to execute.
Has contributed to campaign anti-pollute,
Sighted orphans and settled destitute,
Awarded teachers like me and persecute
Vast enmity against him which substitute
Allies as Hardik and myself in healthy lawsuit.
Never saw him angry or upset as he commute;
Insane behaviour is far as never did he salute
Someone, but bowed his head to transmute
Inner love and care to all old and his recruit.
Remain healthy and wealthy! This my tribute.
the hands of the ghost of the future
rest their palms on my shoulders
i’m startled but i’m not surprised
because there’s nothing there
i’ve been eating nothing
i’ve been acting as if there’s something left for me
but there’s only length
Drugs have left me numb.
My doctor gave me some.
So high I can't believe.
I love it,
I need it,
My doctor says it helps easee me
Their easeeing izzie
Change me , break me
Love me,hate me
Warp my being.
I have fake friends and progamable teachers.
Ordered to do as they do.
Empty of everything especially opinion unless it has with it gods intent.
This is all done to prevent separation
(Once more there is still segregation)
This only incites rebellion in me.
I hate this place so how do I escape.
Do I run or stay and go away in another way.
South parks advice is to just quit twitter.
This world isn't worth it to scaredto kill myself.
So I cut ,cut and cut my wrist
To take away my strife and find bliss.
Have you ever had that moment
Where the clock is ticking down
to that big test you need to do
but you didn't study at all
And the closer the test gets
the more anxious you get
and when you get the test
the color leaks from you face
and you know your gonna fail
8 minutes left.
There’s no thoughts in his mind,
His mattress and blankets are warm.
There’s no room for darkness in his dreams he’s dreaming.
But, nevertheless, it creeps.
He isn’t warned,
Not given a sign or message in slumber.
He’s blissfully ignorant of the events about to play out.
Does the darkness even know?
Is it aware of the evils brought about by its lurking?
Is it sentient?
Or does my brooding hand seek to personify its presence?
To cause hatred toward and idea, a notion, an action... that has no thought.
No, it knows. It must know.
6 minutes ‘till the demise of this unsuspecting victims peaceful shut-eye.
Why does he sleep so peacefully?
Slipping into unlearned practices every passing hour his eyes are sealed.
Every morning, like clockwork, he is awoken from a deep happiness,
Reliving the moment that had been relieved the previous day, and before.
Shaking this chip from his shoulder,
Acting as if it will not happen the day next, or thereafter.
Maybe, he doesn’t forget?
Maybe, every night before he drops off,
His prayers are filled with hope.
Maybe he believes he will not go insane,
If just one day, waking up to silence is a possibility...
The immoral act is closing in on the innocent.
Nothing ever prepares him for it.
There is no training or overcoming.
All he can do is wait,
Hope... and pray for a distant future;
One where there is no anxious crescendo to the opening of his eyes.
One where he doesn’t doubt the reasons behind his mechanical repetitive days.
Worries do not motivate this young man to do better,
Rather, they draw him into a seclusion of education.
He despises his classes and curses the roads that bring him there.
But, there is light in him…
Is there reasons?
Why should I…
Why should he sleep if he knows he will forget?
Waking up to repeat the wickedness of yesterday.
He begins to grow a hatred for the pillow,
For the blankets,
For the springs of the mattress he lays upon every night.
The one commodity that is supposed to be his safe place,
His haven from the darkness of midnight to morning,
Assists in torturing his sanity,
Mocking his reality,
In a way the cuffs are not prison,
But they are a bridge to a time of solitude.
His family starts to see a change.
His attitude is worse.
He’s out later and gone sooner.
When he’s home, his time is spent silent.
Fingers rapping the six strings of a guitar,
Or his hands writing the words to a song.
The light inside beings to flicker.
16 years old,
Striving to not have the image of the ordinary edgy teen,
But question the truth behind the need for higher education.
Why should the likes of him be concerned of going into law or banking?
Why should the scores on a piece of paper determine his future and his worth?
None of this makes sense.
He begins to slip…
His grades are changing.
15 percent below failing.
Told to take History 128 to major in computer science,
Because nothing is like being a “well rounded” citizen.
What else will he and all of his posh friends talk about?
The weather or personal affairs?
No! It’s 2017 for days sake.
We all must know why the author made the curtains blue.
He despises anarchists,
But hates the system of success.
The villainous fiend laughs,
Its system works just fine.
The deed is done.
The alarm rings.
This event spurs the awakening of our troubled protagonist.
The darkness leaves,
But its stench lingers.
This fills up in the lungs of a poor boy.
Persuading his actions and sifting through his thoughts.
The light is dim now.
But an hour,
Asked why he’s changed,
No answer is equipped.
One more day.
One more day.
Just another quarter.
You can it one more, right?
Just one more year.
One more year…
The future’s close, hold on to see the end.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G.
"You can reach your future, Jerry."
It's what they always tell to me
But it's not the thing I want to hear.
Why? Why, you ask,
It's the fact that it's full of flak,
that it's just a hack,
that we really lack
Common decency, knowledge,
it gets replaced with hypocrisy, indulgence
in self-worth, numbers and numbness
Numbness of the students,
As they stop trying to be prudent,
as they stop trying to be good, and
It's all about the numbers, fodder, rubber,
All the way until summer or winter.
Stop being so arrogant,
you might get him to tell his parents that
"School is not working, school is not helping!"
Please, stop hearing what he says!
Listen, before he permanently hits the hay.
Listen, before he feels cut, and cut himself up.