Ayodhya

[ As mentioned earlier, all attempts at poems made as a kid have only been included in the School days’ Rhymes section, those saved by my mom. As an act of rebellion I burnt all my poems and quit writing, when I found my mom had read them. These are the ones my mom had saved by making a copy. This, my second poem was written at the age of almost thirteen in my eighth grade. Social consciousness has no age bar.]

I am dull,
seeing the skull,
of innocent men rolling down,
the sacred town;

because of foolish men,
hearing the evil one,
commit many a sin,
in the name of religion;

is it the will of god,
that makes us sad,
it is the whim of man,
that makes us groan;

does hope remain,
that the hatred and pain,
the never ending tale,
will one day anchor it’s sail.

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