There were close to hundred and eight
strapped in divine silk coat and saffron,
a tale of a despicable scratch,
The bright loom had lost its contrast,
kindness doesn’t cost brot.
don’t be the first to let go off,
you’d never know how long they need it,
you’d never know what they’re sustaining,
the stress shrouded behind every “I’m Fine”;
just hold on.
2309 to 2410,
it would be so much simpler,
had it been just 101 numbers.
the one whose laugh is funnier than the joke,
caring beyond all rationality
and wanting them to have everything that they want,
no matter how self ruinous it turns out to be.
Cutting and killing flowers thinking they’re beautiful,
it is what the world revolves around- a secret stash.
Wanting to be frozen,
just the thought of it gets hanging heavy bags.
Bearing the fuss,
the invalid talks,
and yet being around,
by the side, always- it’s demanding,
only one could do it,