Adi Dantre, Class X B
Curved through the top,
Narrow at the end,
A point towards the bottom,
With words within,
Words questioning young minds,
Killing each of a kind.
Exams, lawsuits, find it anywhere,
Cursing childhood and ruining lives everywhere,
Wondering how this curse was imposed on us,
Destroying people, relations and disemboweling trust,
Turning questions to arguments,
Arguments to debates,
Debates to settlements,
Settlements to disagreements,
Disagreements to rage, and
Rage to war,
Then war to destruction,
And destruction to death and,
Death to pain, anguish, sacrifice and loss,
And all this to sadness,
All this triggered by the symbol of doom,
The symbol that never regrets or understands but questions,
Questioning the inhuman reality of this world,
All this triggered by a question mark.
A Dream
What if I told you that all this was a dream?
That in the real world,
Out there somewhere,
All was sweat and cream,
That their hatred did not find its way home,
And respect wasn’t to be found,
Where love would flow in like a mere stream.
Somewhere out there,
We all can just try and live the dream,
Where knowledge would come in like mail,
And money would grow on trees,
Where the sea of egos would be salted,
By truth, but not to demean,
Versatility of a soul touch the sky and come back down,
Where pain would be a mere cookie.
And now what if I told you that all this wasn’t a dream,
Just a strawberry cake, with a base of cream,
Waiting to be licked, by all young eyes,
It’s not the cruel world,
It’s the layer of innocence,
That needs to be cleaned,
It’s always been the same,
Always a dream.
