By Vedant Anshuman Singh
Amid the chaos, the world alight,
A sea of Titans, an endless might.
Humans scatter, their hearts like glass,
Running, stumbling, as shadows pass.
Towards the cliff, they press, they shove,
No mercy here, no gentle love.
A mother clutches her child so tight,
Her tears reflecting the dying light.
She searches faces, her silent plea,
But fear has drowned humanity.
The crowd surges, a brutal tide,
And mother and child are cast aside.
But in her fall, her arms release,
A fragile hope, a moment's peace.
The baby soars, her final prayer,
Into the hands of strangers there.
A man catches the infant's cry,
And lifts it upward to the sky.
Hands reach out, they pass, they pull,
The crowd, though doomed, is purposeful.
They know their fate, the fall, the end,
But for this child, their hearts transcend.
A final push, a desperate throw,
Towards the land, away from woe.
They tumble down, but hope remains,
A fragile spark through fear and chains.
For in that child, beneath the sky,
Lives the reason they dared to try.
And as they fall, their final breath,
Defies the Titans, defies their death.
For in the baby's fragile chest,
Beats a hope they could not suppress.
By Vedant Anshuman Singh
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