Tiny footprints on the gold clad beach.

I've been here before.

My legs feel sore,

and it feels like I've been walking

and walking.

There's a longing;

always a longing to be free.

Do these footprints last forever?

Do people get affected when we're talking to each other?

It seems like now the world doesn't

revolve around me.

No one listens,

even if you ask them politely.

This world is another playground,

and this life comes to bully me in the merry- go round.

The swing

moves when I touch it;

The sky has birds

and they have their

own lives


The crayons break,

and the moon goes away too.

The lullabies are often fake,

and the sky isn't just blue.

Author: Gayathri Nair

Editor: Ananya Chaure

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