Student and tech enthusiast. Curious about learning new technologies and knowing new facts. Literature and coffee fuel my life.
The birth of a poem
In the womb of a longing fantasy
I was lying fast asleep all these days
I sprang up as a new thought from my father
When merged with my mother’s creativity, I was made
All these days they nurtured me with some concise verbals,
Their ideas, feelings, sounds, gestures, signs, and some strong symbols
They even gave me a tune to enrich my beauty
For I being their creation to make a point and make sense of the world
And finally, I was born when my mother was in a state to
No longer bear the pain of her anxiety to see me
Yeah, I am born, and my mother is still in pain
Some are saying, “she is supposed to suffer”!