My Friend!–There is no friend!

A day of dynamite,
They will scatter the roses,
A day of my kite,
When all is exposed to the air,
My thread entangled in my fingers,
My vision concealed,
The kite cried for aid,
As I was preoccupied with seeking help for myself,
She was murmuring, “There, Brazil, Pakistan, America”
“I’m soaring; he forgot.”
“I’m fading, my comrade.”
She was unintelligible to me,
Brazil arrived there,
Only to hand over her string,
She thought she’d be rescued,
But who anticipated,
The other flag was playing a game,
She cried out again,
“My dad! hey Mr. Tenner,
I’m Perishing, the other one
Piercing me”
As she finally comprehended,
SHE was SEVERED,
I merely got my hand injured,
But she was not mine,
at that very moment,
And she wailed,
“Please, I don’t want
To perish”
Then, only her tormentor,
Mr. Noble tree,
Initiated his keen edges,
Into her arteries,
And she perished.

“© 2024 Jaskaran Singh. All rights reserved.”