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Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Firecrackers!

I meet him,
his eyes smile.
A cracker in hand,
he crosses a mile.
Implants the 'rocket',
into its stand, and runs.
In the next moment,
the rocket guns,
high in the sky!
It bursts, spreading,
into many sparks,
oh, what a life lied,
in the rocket,
that warred.

"Pollution, pollution!",
I cry, I leave,
I am not surprised.
He laughs, and says,
"You did the same,
it's my turn now."
I return,
comfort myself inside,
my home.

It has been a mile,
of a time that I fired-
crackers,
It was late,
that I realised-
it was not soothing,
it hurt me, the air-
that forms me.

Pitying myself,
of my past deeds-
I went back to the kid,
and cautioned him-
"Do you want to be,
at a place where you see me?"
He replied,
"I don't care, you're just afraid,
of firecrackers."

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