Y.K.

I will study, I will dare,

To become the millionaire.

I won't fall, but fly high,

Like an eagle, to touch the sky.

I want the rain, I want the sun,

Want my brain to be full of wisdom.

I'll cry, I'll complain,

'cause there's no gain without the pain.

I'm gonna dream, gonna aim,

Gonna win all of my games.

If I lose, If I fail,

I'm gonna try again and again.

I desire to touch the sky,

but my wings aren't strong enough

for me to fly.

I have the best feathers,

Strings for the feathers to tie,

but I'm too lazy to make them

and too coward to try.

Sometimes I fail to make them.

They remain incomplete, torn,

not perfect to be worn.

Sometimes there's a hole in the wings

And when I fly,

I fall, becoming wingless,

Again on my bed I lie.

I believe, I hope,

A day will come, when I'll have the biggest

and the strongest wings,

For me to fly high.

For that day to come, I must keep working on my wings.

Every second counts,

I must accept every tear,

Every single wound.

All I need is patience,

And a little strength,

Along with some dedication,

Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, For men strong and women witty;

It's an escape from the daily chaos and a relief from the cycle of profit and loss.

Had my breakfast in the train

and lunch in a car.

On reaching there, I forgot my sorrow and pain,

Disappeared all my bruises and scar.

It is idyllic, but not artificial;

It is heavenly and ethereal.

I get consumed by its serenity

and my heart gets filled with peace and tranquillity.

I had a snug jacket covering my bare skin

and some food in cans made of tin.

A scarf wrapped around my shoulder and gloves protecting my hand,

The place where I stood, seemed to be a mystical land.

I could see huts, cottages and shops selling cloak;

Trees of pine, cedar, spruce and oak.

There were flowers of each and every hue,

I ate berries- red, black and blue.

The divine place was captured in my memory forever,

I didn't wish to go back ever.

Tall fir trees stood in a row,

A clown who spent his night by crying,

Made hundred people laugh the very next day.

A doctor who couldn’t stop a six-year-old from dying,

Treated the next ten patients in a tender way.

Some people wear the mask of smile,

To hide their pain and sorrow.

They are neither resilient nor fragile,

They forget their past and focus on tomorrow.

“I have lost my mom” said a small boy,

A girl went with him to help; she was a teen.

The boy had a gun in his pocket, which was not a toy,

Since then, the girl was never seen.

The moon wears the cloak made of clouds in the night,

The vile wears the mask made of goodness.

It appears that the sky is deprived of light