The destination of life is same for all,

Just the path gets contrasting as we crawl,

A few reach the destination with comfort,

Utmost reach it with a lot of tiring effort,

In the end heads are high for some,

As victory comes beating a drum,

But most have drooped down head,

As defeat causes tears to shed.

Dawn to dusk is the time for them,

Who have incurred a lot of fame,

With foot on ground and heads up sky,

They move with pride and wings to fly,

Dusk to dawn is the time for them,

Who are bound to hide faces in shame,

With foot on ground and heads hidden down,

They are treated as town’s biggest clown.

I count myself among the latter,

As life of mine is in a tatter,

Fallen dirty in some forbidden corner,

Life has always appeared as a scorner,

With people overpassing me every moment,

Close one’s consider me as bad omen,

Thus I move deserted with shadows side by,

There appears water stains below the eye.

Sitting on the empty benches in the park,

I am forced to hide alone in the dark,

With some fellows like me sharing other benches,

We are all cognate,fallen in the compatible trenches,

No hands do ever show up for our support,

Only countless lips inundate  to snort,

They whisper to compose fun of our failure,

Almighty seems to be our only saviour,

Streets buzzing with various loud sounds,

Every footstep causing vibrations on the ground,

I can feel my heart urging to be among the crowd,

But I fear stepping in seeing the overcast cloud,

It may rain any moment with heavy drizzle,

And people may taunt me making me frizzle,

So I elope late when everyone’s back home,

Quietly without avoiding to disturb famous Gnome.

Back at home affectionate darkness prevails,

With cracked walls and water patches forming scales,

I sit with a lighted puff gasping at the moon,

With no words to speak,sinking in a swoon,

This state of mine had been adapted since long,

\From the time sadness tied me with a thong,

Hopes disappeared,Dreams shattered down,

It’s been long I am holding my battered crown.

Summary: Solitude is the poem written based on the condition of the living being who is all alone and feels deserted.


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