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Akash mazumdar Nov 2017
Before I die please tell me how you do all this ,
How are you carrying me? how you kept a stupid me sharing extreme bliss,
How you do all of this ; being polite and kissing with your prayers,
Knowing that may be it won't give you what you deserve and end up devastated with a sharp spear ,
That spear dipped in poison of pain,
And sorrow along with only threatening thunder but no soothening rain,
The rain which relieves the painful emotions,
Which are highly toxic and in extreme end up with potions ,
It's not just a big heart which take all hurt inside ,
And just pushing endless Love outside,
Even if I annoy you; tease you or push you off the ease and stab you from inside ,
You don't manage you just put them aside ,
Put it in the trash can and wrap me with care and made yourself so polite ,
Is it really possible to do without no reason at all,
Or there is something like a big treasure at the end of this fall?
I mean really is there any big worth behind all of this?
Or just it's only you and only just board me up in your boat; oh no not a boat it's a ship ,
Ship carrying every thing which can make things more than ease,
Counting from a little help upto a endless number of beautiful moments with ,
Are you a human? do you really exist?
I have numerous of questions for you; will you stay in contact forever ?
And if you don't I don't have a problem but I wish for you God must give you happiness in a big basket everyday and a person to love you every second.
Every time I've been a stupid making mistakes thousand of times.
on a hot day
on a cold night
trees moving systemically to the wind
left, right and center as a dance
leaves jumping for joy
cool breeze soothening the nerves
fat men under sheds
dark men in  white shirts
facelessness of the dark makes children uneasy
chatter from girls, talks from boys
elders glued to radio
mothers in wrappers tending to food
promises made at the dark corners
babies snoring
the breeze stops
mosquitoes alert for food
wrappers make swoosh sound
legs,hand beaten in despiration to ****
the restlessness of the childeren becomes a burden
the radio an unending noise
life is weird
even on a cold night it can be hot.


akinwale damilare

— The End —