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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Choices

I don’t make choices..
Choices happen to me.
While I sit there inadequately..
Waiting for the next thing to happen.
It often dampens me..
Leaves me shaken.
But the truth is I keep lying.
About how dying gets superfluous.
Emphasis on lives occur..
Mine seems to be way better.
While many out there just suffer..
Denying the fact that ending it is what they prefer.
Empty eyes portray blasphemy..
Nothing is rudimentary.
The train which no one’s willing to take..
Cowardice is a notion while bravery sticks to make.
But I want to go a long way..
Holding hands asking them to stay.
As the journey just got started..
And all those unwilling have already departed.

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