A Poem by Ishaan Kaila
What I look for, I cannot find,
Choices make a man go blind.
Many chefs spoil the broth,
and many choices make the brain rot.
Choices promised man new heights
and later took away his rights.
With many choices in each of our hands
We walk the long path to our merry end.
Indecision and frustration bind,
The hopeless thought of life divine.
We wait for money to drown our pains,
all in the hope of a better grave.
We think of freedom while bound in chains.
As we all walk to our merry end,
the very path our choices have paved
We look back, to do it all again,
In hopeless thought of a better grave.
Mother’s Day Special
Ishaan wrote this poem for his poetry loving mother on Mothers’ Day.
