Image: EcoLocalizer
The blasts wake him up every morning,
He looks out through the window,
There is a different world outside,
The glass reflects his past,
Opening those pages of the book which
cannot be turned back to,
Back to the days when he was able to
feel the sun,
Back to the days when the street was
meant for playing those big games,
Those moments had gone into hiding,
They could no longer be a reality,
Hidden somewhere between those ferocious
blasts,
He tries wiping the glass of the window,
It becomes milky with every passing day,
Suppressing his desire to touch the life
on the other side of the window,
A life lost among the rubbles of those
beautiful houses,
A life silenced among those cries of help,
A life wiped by the wind, playing with the
dust, to bury it forever,
Will there be a next time to find that life
again ?
He knows not,
Now the bricks cover the window,
But he can see a bit through the window,
The glass has turned opaque to an unclear
extent,
Opaque with perhaps a vision he should not see
beyond that window,
Behind the blocks he could feel a part of him
was being left behind,
He could feel his sealed identity lurking in a
place he no longer belonged to,
The window has turned opaque,
He understands it now,
As the door remains closed ruthlessly........

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