By-Aditi Dhar Choudhury
A young girl, all of sixteen,
Huddled up in a corner;
She’d sit there, waiting,
Hoping, somebody would call her.
She had friends, galore,
Everybody knew her name;
But most didn’t talk to her anymore,
Things had begun to change.
She fell, in a pit deep,
Couldn’t get out, needed help;
Nobody could see her weep,
Because, everybody had left.
She called out, but in vain,
Nobody seemed to care enough;
None empathized with her pain,
Maybe, all she needed, was a hint of love.
The young girl, is now nineteen,
Still lonely in a crowded world;
Till date, she remains unseen,
I know, because I’m that girl.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn