I grew up in Poverty,
Even after five decades of Liberty...
Racism riots, took dad’s Life,
Leaving me alone and his Wife…
She worked very hard, to Educate Me,
But it was not enough, to pay school
Fee…
In road accident, she left for
Heaven,
Leaving innocent child, to suffer at
Seven…
To satisfy my hunger, I begged in
Rail,
For stealing food, they sent me to
Jail…
Innocence died, all in Rehab,
Decided to be, driver of a Cab…
Even After all this Swirl,
I met a beautiful Girl…
We tied a knot of Life,
She turned to be a wonderful Wife…
In crowds of, hundreds of Ten,
He killed an innocent Man…
My heart with, grief and Pain,
I called there, a police Van…
They dragged him, to local Jail,
In a day, he was out on Bail…
Responsibility, messed me with
Slaughter,
And I lost, my only Daughter…
The fear of losing Wife,
Kept me silent, in my Life…
It took years, to find a Joy,
Happiness returned, with little Boy…
He grew fast, to Eighteen,
We paid extra, to the Dean…
In this world, moving Fast,
Lost my legs, in the Blast…
I failed, to feed my House,
So went to work, my Spouse…
I felt, extra burden to Her,
And hence, wrote a Letter…
“To free you from me, my wife,
I cut my vein, with knife.
Please don’t cry, when I die,
I love you, accept good bye.
I can’t live, with this unrest,
Leaving, to find peace in death.
Forgive me……..for what I
did.”
-Archita Vyas
It is well said,"The Technology you use impresses no one but the experience you create with it is Everything." And you justified the statement completely.
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