Pride

Ishika Gautam

Countless persons bonded aloof,

Castle on my eyes, with no legit proof,

Looking the attention seeked for whom,

With a broken soul he was doomed.

A boy, a male he, man was not yet,

Pleasure to fake grin, outside rotten death,

Peered his marks of tears on cheeks,

If they were blade—should peel and creak.

Others what seen a free of soul,

He was a middled with loads as goals,

A dead of dark spent on silent yells,

He had those agony under his eyes dwelled.

A growling vocals his voice proved,

Lest what a person should easily ruled,

He—what an ethereal creature I saw,

He—a respectable prisoner of life I adored.

  • Author: I.G. (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 12th, 2022 05:46
  • Comment from author about the poem: Not all boys and males are the same :)
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 15
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments2

  • dean langmuir

    Nice write,take care.

  • L. B. Mek

    'Others what seen a free of soul,
    He was a middled with loads as goals,
    A dead of dark spent on silent yells,
    He had those agony under his eyes dwelled.'
    hopefully with every passing, 'June'
    such experiences
    will reduce, be it by single digits
    at a time
    or six zero's.. what important
    is 'We', collectively
    empower that message
    where being different, isn't some sin
    or mistake..
    its just nature, it's
    natural
    and no one should feel, marginalised
    for being themselves, however disparate..
    there is genuine beauty, in humanity's
    diversity!
    (a great write, thanks for sharing)



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