The Battle Part Two

 

Thinking of above story brief,

My heart filled full of grief,

What will I do when,

Adversity will come.

Succumb to it,

Or fight till I beat.

Yes, always exist a war,

Life is wrong to someone,

Right for none,

Some rides a pleasant ride,

Some face the fiery tide,

Taking him through the sea wide,

To the oceans of deadly sharks,

Who will swallow him to darkest darks.

Watching on the opposite side,

Life was quite kind,

There was a another boy,

Who had every toy,

He was taller than first,

Never knew what is thirst,

Lived in the shady palace ,

Played on the spacious terrace

There was nothing to cry,

Life was not so dry,

Not even so shy,

Everyone get tense, when his demands fly.

Not  as unlucky to have friends,

To play with clay on beautiful day.

Nothing to worry, nothing to hurry,

His life had many doors,

If slippery floor, support of four.

Never thought in this beautiful world,

There existed a life so curled,

Whorled, twisted. Where every,

Color of life is replaced by,

Fight for existence.

When he saw this battle,

He became the warrior,

Who had the will of mother,

Heart of lion,

Gave an example, so inspiring,

I went home smiling.

The Battle Part One

Its a battle of right,

With what is wrong,

Defeat for one,

Victorious will be other,

Time will tell the truth,

The battle will be remembered,

Forever

Its a story of a boy,

Who lived without toy,

Working in the bright sun,

With the scar of burn,

Not on the body,

But in the soul.

Draining all the sweat,

Every drop has its worth.

Tired exhausted what he is,

Losing is his priceless childhood.

Living a solitary life,

Like life is playing a game.

Game of where destiny will ,

Take him,

To the path of right and wrong.

Choice was his, but will

Be made by others.

This instance was not kind,

Like slapped by a heavy wind,

Took bus to travel,

Small enough of a size of gravel,

Trapped in between legs,

 Just fault of his height,

Which reaches their pockets,

They thought he was,

Invading their pockets.

Beaten broken bashed,

Brought to the police,

Accused of crime he never knew,

Again beaten broken bashed,

Leaving with nothing,

Thrown back to the streets,

Back to barren streets, empty streets, merciless streets,

Again roamed in search of something.

Had the choice,

Chose the crime he never did,

Or walk in the same road.

But in the body of mice,

Lied the heart of lion.

He chose what was right,

Yes the mighty right.

Life had something else in store,

Time will tell,

He had hidden that everyone,

Will adore.

By 
Vaibhav Deorari