Author: Ananya Julka, Class XI F
Caught in wisps of timber she’s forced to flee
In sinister hutch she found herself hostage one day,
And as circumstances presented so, the farther she flew denser the boughs grew
So she fidgeted and fought, only to be stationed injured in a big bundle of hay
She’s free now though if you’d call it that
Present in mystical lands they tell you about in folklore
But not the lulling kind with beaches and seas,
Instead the terrifying ones where the display of ice is galore
The lone Passerine now sits sorrowfully upon a prickly pine
Occasionally calling about for help in her sully quiritation
As the icy wind gushed past her oozing wounds
She hadn’t much time past nine
8:59 struck the ticker as with her last huffy breath
Cracked her last melody of lamentation
To be so caught up in this labyrinth without escape
I must be a messiah, not worshipped with cosmic applause,
rather convicted for a deed so mighty,
In my resplendent attire, tattered boots and this shaggy old coat, I won’t need a cape
So I slump my gear and throne the holy soil in my palm, though just a daud,
for I’m not sure it’s truly mine anymore
Reincarnated I’ll return as I walk around this mysterious orb of a planet
Not in yet another lifetime yet in a completely disparate form as whole
For the tragedies caused by the hunger of their greed are too filthy a deed
but what pains me the most is I cannot save all, one can play only so much of a duet
I shall rise up to my staggering feet on an unwavering mission to retrieve the futures they stole
for my last days mustn’t be spent on a deathbed so uneventful
