shehzar doja - One Day

I heard there wasn’t more to life
than sitting,
peeling onions,
layer after layer

or sipping on hot chocolate
on a hot day

someone told me life was art
more of a collage, I thought,
pockets of paint thrown against
an unprepared canvas

concrete fields
was all I go to play in,
it hurt every time I fell down,
but who was I to complain?

didn’t they say they were doing
what was best,
for the people?

I heard one day of love
thought of it as childish infatuation
so I fell in, fell out
who was I to complain
about life?

One night I even looked
at a star,
couldn’t remember which one though
too many to wish upon,
and if I spent all my time looking
I’d forget to hear the cock crow in the morning,
forget it was time to go home
but who am I to complain about time?


Who am I?
I ask myself
sometimes
and forget
I was significant enough
to be born

shehzar doja

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-day-9/