Written by: Suphiyana Ghimire - 27016, Grade IX
Posted on: 04 December, 2023
It’s nostalgia that you brew,
Oh dear moon of the starry view.
On those lonely nights that I lay,
Remembering ones now far away.
Memories replay like music from old cassettes,
Of sadness and joy as pairs of undefined sets.
All the seasons of the year passed away,
All the wounds you gave are scarring away.
Your unquenchable thirst for perfection,
Detests times filled with joy and happiness.
Society that remains with stains of blood,
Of my loved ones whom you claimed as odd.
Like mist from the rain in winter break,
Hatred and rage made my head shake.
For what sin had hanged them this way,
“The sin of their low castes,” you say.
You were the void harnessing darkness,
For us, the measly pawns, you oppress.
Puppeteer whose powers were strings,
Tied to make us stoop as weaklings.
The sun shone brightly to a new day,
With hopes and prosperity to stay.
I ask, will this be the perfect day?
For starting anew without going astray.
