O! Mother

In this great illusory world of competition and war,
Where the lands of far and far become so near,

Owing to the technological advances so untrackable,
Wrecking evil habits barely letting them be controllable,

All the learned gems of schools struggling to learn,
Ma, is it my mistake to call out and cry, ’tis not so fun?

Ma, would a child know himself to be one with weak heart’s impulse?
That renders him hopeless in letting the mind inward in firm compulse.

Ma, you know the actions of thy child even before being done,
Yet, you leave him to his play with hurts, injures, ’tis not so fun?

All the learned gems of schools struggling to integrate,
Ma, is it my mistake to call out and cry, ’tis not so fun?

Ma, in utter exhaustion and frustration, I screamed a few words,
Give them meaning, and let me be solaced in thy tender kindness.

— Sridhar