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Are you okay? Yes I am.. But I wasn't , As I responded to that, Because what else to say, When you aren't, Are you feeling good? Yes I am.. When I wasn't, But how will it help, If I responded for real, Do you need water? Yes I want.. But just shut down, The surrounding chatter, With infinite laughter, I couldn't bear, The noise, Inside me growing larger, Than my voice that was, Shaking my exterior poise, My daughter, Came closer.. As she held my, trembling hand, As she whispered, Mom, it will get better.. My partner, Looked at me, And wanted me to know.. It's okay, Not to be okay, Getting drunk, And throwing up.. Is all part of growing up, Till the part, Where you start loving, Just water again.. My mom and dad, Comforted me,  That although sad as it looks, Things aren't that bad.. As explained by the books, Relationships and people, Are the ones that make you stable, While everything else, Can topple,   Well, there will be loads of trouble, But more than that t

Empty Basket

All she had was an empty basket..
She could fill it with stones..
Or fill it with bones..
But she wanted to fill it with ..
All the thing that she owns .
Looking up to the stars..
And then her empty basket.
Stood falling all over..
From an empty casket.
Voices traveling through thin air.
She could feel the chilly tear.
And then as a thread crumpled from her dress.
Through the winds she tread for a bread in her basket.
There were few crumbs..
As she closely brushed with her thumb.
Her skin went thin..
While tasting curry dripping up to her chin.
Dreaming was she with open eyes..
Probably her face would now chase away flies.
Laughing as she walked past a glass door..
A girl licked an ice cream which she couldn’t ignore.
She did have a half bread from an apple store..
Tugged it out did someone just shout her name.
Whoever it was she wished for a family to claim.
From the ice cream store marched the girl..
All over the sidewalk an essence did twirl.
Stopped while peeping at her basket..
She ate her bread and smiled as she hid it away.
*dedicated to the little ones who go hungry to bed , life is all but a struggle for the tiniest bread.


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