They wonder through the broken streets where once he played…English poetry

How can I always lend a hand

But ignore the cries within myself

It brings me joy to bring you a smile

But my emptiness still sits up on the shelf

Inside my heart will always bleed

But I will never let it be shown on my face

Only the tear that falls down my cheek

Will give you a glimpse, a shadow, a trace

I suffocate when I try to breathe

The chains you gave won't let my body go

I have dreams, and needs, and wants

My body is numb, I think maybe you should know

I struggle with my demons each day

You feed them while you slowly watch me die

Please let me be and please set me free

I want to smile as I look up at the sky

I want the moon to brighten the night

I want the clouds to pass me on by

I want the stars to guide me to heaven

And I want wings to life me and fly..........

Designed By Saddiq Ur RehMan SaddiqI(3025866338)

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 Usually when people are sad, they don’t do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.

     Beginnings are scary. Endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most.

     Dying seems less sad than having lived too little.

     However long the night, the dawn will break.

     Better by far you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad.

     They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

     For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, It might have been.

     Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.

     I had rather have a fool make me merry, than experience make me sad.

     The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.

     Nobody really cares if you’re miserable, so you might as well be happy.

     We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness. By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness.

     A sad spectacle. If they be inhabited, what a scope for misery and folly. If they be not inhabited, what a waste of space.

     It is sad to grow old but nice to ripen.

     The walls we build around us to keep out the sadness also keep out the joy.

     We ask God to forgive us for our evil thoughts and evil temper, but rarely, if ever ask Him to forgive us for our sadness.

Designed By Saddiq Ur RehMan SaddiqI(3025866338)

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 Almond eyes….
Ocean deep,….

Deserted from tenderness….

Lost in human wilderness…
Hiding half way behind the great war torn wall…
His mother…
Is not to be seen around….
His father…
Has long since been gone…
Hasn’t returned…
Since last Christmas eve…
Where’s father..?
He’s wondered …
Amidst the debris of millions of homes broken….
Of families in millions… lost and forgotten…
He wonders if he is the only one…
Or is it only him and the neighbor??
In the worn torn heart of his country….
His dream world lays shattered…
His eyes search through those men in arms…
They wonder through the broken streets where once he played…
His innocence takes its final breath….
It cannot sustain itself any longer…
Deep inside his patience is dyeing…
His faith is crying…
His hopes are dismal…
Will father ever come back??
Or is it the end now….?
For the first time in life….
He has just experienced pain…
For the first time …
His little heart seems to be breaking ….
For the first time now…
His fairytale world is drowning…
Reality stares in the face…
So blankly….it could break those bullets into half.
When he should have been searching for things far of late….
He wonders…
of life and death…
Of guns and bullets…
for the first time now…
He has just experienced loss…
“There are no fairies or miracles?. Are there mamma??
If there were… father might have returned...”
No…he says so…
yet he still believes…
He still prays…
Every day
Every morning
Every night
Underneath the plank of his little bed…
And he still gives that broken smile...
That smile that talks of hope…
Once in a while…
For long now…
he has not known the meaning of the word… ‘jihad’…
he knows now…. Even before he could read….
His father would whisper each day…
Those eternal prayers…
of life and death…
Of love and hate…
Of peace and animosity…
What was father’s fault then?
Why did he go away?
Maybe he might never know….
why father never returned….
what happened on a fateful Christmas eve…
that intriguing mystery unveiled….
He might wonder which path to tread then…
A path father rarely encouraged…
A path he never preached…
A chapter unwritten ….in the holy ‘Koran’
For reasons unheard...
Undiminished…and uninterrupted
Reasons full of hate…
reasons full of revenge…
born to avenge…
To extinguish the fire of rage…
That burnt alive the deer of life…..
That wasted away…
those flowers of childhood innocence….
That sinking heart that forgot how to dream…
And those lips that forgot…how to tremble. how to smile.
Now…
Those eyes retain their shameless charm. Their magical passions…
Betraying all good. all evil. All hate.
To embark on to the journey…
That never held any good…
For maybe

That might just be the answer…

To why father..
had never returned……….

Designed By Saddiq Ur RehMan SaddiqI(3025866338)

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