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Walking Stick

The tale of his life is unending
He walks through narrow gullies
He stumbles, he falls and he finally wakes up.
He is the mechanical man
His soul is freezing
His emotions are dry
He is like a dead man walking
He is sulking, he is crying
He is fighting a never-ending battle.

There are haunting shadows
There are curses of past
There is an invisible pain inside him.
He smiles mechanically,
He walks hysterically
He laughs without a reason
He cries in his loneliness.

His room is empty
His face no more exude glow
The tale of his life is unending
The shadow of loneliness lurks around him
He loves to stay in his dream
The man is cold
He is old; he is walking without a soul.

He is deserted by his family members
He is thrown out of his home.
The old man is walking
His unseen tears give him pain.
The silence haunts him
The monotony gives him agony.

His children never understood him
He is left alone in an old age home.
He carries a picture of his useless sons in his wallet
He carries all the memories
He sometimes smiles seeing them
He no more bless them
He is lonely, walking in a lonely lane.

I hope no father sees this day
I hope no mother stays hungry
I hope no parents feel lonely.
Let there be light, let there be happiness all around…


7 comments:

  1. This touched me! It seems such an inevitable state, before which I wanna pass away!

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  2. Indians treat their old far better than the rest of the world...sad poem of great relevance today

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  3. Thanks Rakesh and Nalini :)

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  4. Anonymous9:56 AM

    too good

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  5. Thanks Anil and Anonymous :)

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  6. Anonymous12:49 PM

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