Fragments of my thoughts,
Pieces of my imaginations
Seesawing in my dreams
All in form of shapes and faceless beings.
A little girl saw I;
A sick girl on a heap of dirts
Struggling for survival.
In pain, breathing with distress
But passing by are the passers-by,
None spared a glance, none lifted a finger.
For her pains,
My heart ripped in tears
But none seems to care,
All lost in their day's business,
She was left to die on dirts.
Fragments of real life.
Pieces of deep thoughts.
Saw I a hood woman
On the five-times-daily-prayer mat,
Chatting and laughing loudly with her friend,
God or man? I wondered what they laughed at.
She's a veil woman
But she knows not how to make prayers.
Imaginations, but real.
Thoughts, but true.
Saw I were pieces of dirts
All dispersed to nooks and crannies.
Wondered I why this be,
No place for dirts indeed?
Showed I was a signboard.
Dirts surely belong not there.
But how could this be!?
"Sanitarians poured it there!"
Fragments... Pieces...
Crying... Weeping...
Amazed... Confused...
Reality...in my dreams.
Reality dives into my dreams;
The helpless, hopeless.
The pious, unserious.
The makers, breakers.
The reality of existence.
Fragments of Realism.
Pieces of Truism.
Life is drained, hopeless.
Life is cruel, heartless.
Life is void, lifeless.
Life is truly not what we think it is.
Life is not real, mere illusion it is.
© *MISS LOVE*
*#2017*