Anger

There he was,
walking steadily,
passerby's wishing him,
quite earnestly.

In the midst of,
replying to their wishes,
all he could think of,
was about the past few years,

Everyday he walks from his home,
in the very same direction,
on the very same known, safe path,
that his father showed him.

It was indeed a good path,
earned him all these 'earnest wishes'
yet when he walks to the foot,
of that mountain, he is wobbling.

The mountain that he always,
wanted to climb yet couldn't,
The mountain that was no Mt. Everest,
yet he didn't!
                                             
                                               *     *     *     *     *

There he was,
walking steadily,
passerby's cursing him,
quite earnestly.

In the midst of,
those constant dark curses,
all he could think of,
was about the past few years,

How not even a single day,
he never went to his home,
or chose a known, safe path,
that his father had shown him.

It was indeed a good path,
and could have saved him,
from all these dark curses,
yet it seemed to difficult to contain 'that' feeling.

He walked deeper into that,
abysmal pit of adventurous monotony,
that finally led to killings and,
meaningless violence and dark fantasy.

Copyright © 2013 Ankita Kashyap