A camouflage of thoughts so deep,
why do people sleep?
With so many secrets buried deep,
Being it forever theirs to keep,
They say whatever they sow they reap,
Yet everything and nothing makes them weep,
They make themselves strong to take the leap,
Building castles when they count the sheep,
Not letting the darkness to creep,
Yet it claws onto the flesh so deep,
coz humans are weak,
Changing minds every week,
brains too mature yet so meek,
so many things to do but,sleep is all they seek,
Yet ,Isn’t that bleak ??
Those humans who sleep as we speak,
Have a different story on their streak
Searching words for their story to speak,
Them trying hard not to weap,
In the land of stronglings they are a freak,
We call them the weaklings,
Trying to hit their peak,
Engraved in the shadows of mystique,
Having darkness yet letting the lights creep,
Scars of battles fought where everyday was a struggle,
They embraced themselves to be weak,
Not letting anyone define them ,
Yet acceptance is all they seek.
They are definitely not meek and freak,
When do we accept them as not weak,
Maybe someday , definition of weak would be antique ,
Till then all the humans can talk ill and they will turn their cheek,
To face all the critique,
They will shine someday so deep,
And the weeklings wouldn’t be called weak,
Yet that someday is faraway and bleak,
Till then all we can do is sleep.
For some context, I had set the premise of this poem almost 2 years ago, but I only wrote 4 lines and left it at that. But today, when I went through my draft folder, I came up with this in 15 minutes, a personal record even for me, but I am glad I did it because I love every line of it!
So tell me what you feel about this, and I’m eternally grateful for all your comments and emails. It feels great to be a part of the community.
Adios for now !!!!
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