A mother said
'I am proud of my son'
In front of about 50 people.
A girl sitting in a corner heard it,
Shuffled through the 'memory box'
To find something similar.
Frantically searching for a torch,
To light up the dark box,
Before depression seeped from the scars.
But it was too late,
The fire was lit,
Smoke burnt her eyes.
Breathless was she,
Till she fell.
Looked around for something to hold,
Struggled to stand up and did.
Looked around,
If she would be patted on the back,
For standing up all on her own,
But another dark memory formed…
Saqii
8:23 pm, 27 April, 2016.
