Creative space: Growing up

As the years go by,
I reflect on what I’ve learnt
The people I have hurt
And the bridges I have burnt.
But what pains the most,
Is my childhood’s ghost.

Long gone are those times,
Sheltered from struggle
A mind dreamy and supple
Afloat in a golden bubble.
Longing for a future so bright,
Never thought I would lose sight.

Oh, what have I become?
Shriveled and comatose
Helplessness overdose
Numbered days I suppose.
With grief I am overwrought,
A war that cannot be fought.

That ghost still haunts me,
Growing up was in vain
Ignoring the voice that kept me sane,
I was my own worst bane.
But here I am still, broken, bleeding
From the shards of shattered dreams.

I still owe a lot to that child
Promises to adhere
And memories I hold dear.
Only one try, it’s clear
I’ll be the hero he wanted me to be
Till then, don’t miss me.

– Sarath Reddy


"I write, re-write, delay and despair. All my articles have no pattern to them apart from being me acting on my impulses. If you have any feedback, I will be more than glad to hear it. I regret nothing. Deus Vult."

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