mumma, will I ever see you?


My Mumma and people like her, are so very unpredictable like expired fireworks. Either forgotten or being made fun of, only for her tormentors to 

                                                                                  shut up and be in awe

                                                                               when she bursts into stars. 

                                             She illuminates and soon dissipates, as if to say 'go on '

NO tiny spark aggravates reactions that were forged long ago. Those chemicals bundled up as everyone took advantage of her innocence, putting the blame on her and using her as if she never thought twice..

thrice,  many a times

she chooses to be forgetful.

Selfishness is to keep their true colours locked.

                                 So back to the beginning, people like my Mumma are scholars playing the fool, because they can. When the wrapping unfolds, their constituent particles are useful to many resources, that range from a matchbox to a nuclear weapon yet they are tired.

They are tired of being resourceful to a world that never spared a glance at them.  The crumbled up  "sales list of the year 2002" that included their simple desires of wearing the shiniest clothes or travelling to the highest places still remains in the god forsaken place of fantasy.

 So they whine.

polluting our minds

that we have to raise a campaign against bursting too many fire crackers.


  To them, it is absolute.                       

                                                 Whether it be,

                                                                                                     assumptions  

                                                                                                                                                or dreams.

Next time, before minimizing humans to stuffed up random chemicals in a tube, I should remember nothing and love them like my Mumma.

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