By Marena Saji
Faded walls, a wooden table
An old bed, a creaky door;
The highlights of fifteen year old’s adore.
‘Cool’, ‘popular’, ‘spoilt’ define his label.
Stern in front of the cracked mirror every morning
A smirk and smile overshadow his face
But returns without a mask every evening
Clearer, unhappy eyes with no smile, unable to cope up in the race.
Unwrapped tons of gifts on his birthday fiesta
Melodious laughter and songs filled the house; certainly a day it was!
But no soul seen beside the sick lad in his room with silence buzz
Except his older sister who played well as a jester.
Headset on his ears the whole day
‘Spoilt Child!’ , they may say.
For only I have seen his tears and might
He simply can’t hear his parents fight!
The timid lad grew over the years
Finally learnt the art to mask his fears
But the mirror can see and walls can hear his cry and gloom
Nothing is hidden from his room; his secret room.
By Marena Saji
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