Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.
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Janak Machchhar

Abstract Drama Fantasy


4.7  

Janak Machchhar

Abstract Drama Fantasy


RESURRECTION OF MYSELF!

RESURRECTION OF MYSELF!

2 mins 24K 2 mins 24K

Hardly any munchkin or an immature adolescent will be 

Delighted to notice their never-ending energy drain! Their feet

Becomes immovable due to its shortage and that destroys their

Futile pleniloquence, parent relish that gone is the energy fleet!


This shortage is not of any companion or instruments or food,

It is just that this lockdown has been sucking their mood.


Greatly relieved I find myself due to this closing; those little

Imps and boisterous slimy newts have been slam shut-in

Their cages. In the midst of a commotion, especially of those

Grinning countenances: my priorities over my art, get a win.


Development in silent work not only subsides arguments

But vacant seats for perfection and for future compliments.


As for a senescent creature; I cannot withstand high levels of 

Uninterrupted blarings! Those children do this extensively, can

They do not play more if they honestly focus on the game rather 

Than finding methods of cheating? They still are not a man.


Maturity is irrespective of age that one has lived, it depends

On what stuff you take to your reading; and that defends.


Now, shouting like from a loudspeaker- those things have 

Commenced fighting within themselves to prove the true victor!

No wonder this will develop into feudal groups, however, it is 

Enjoyment to see fights where they argue to win other's sector.


Neither decreasing nor shifting their place, those servants

Of Satan. Know who's watching? The Martinet or martinets!


"Shut your feeble mouth, brats! Disperse or be thrashed with

My silver cane! Harassing the whole street with your hopeless

Threatening! Still poking at my face like dumpsters, MOVE!" 

 Intimidation grew by the cane, "Unworthy to even caress."


The task of disseminating mentally infantile children was over 

And now only one sound of grass being cut by the lawnmower.


Passed decades now and still am thriving, ruined hundreds of

Meetings of those toads whenever the voice pierced my wall.

Complete transfiguration is seen by those who know their past

Selves: backs erect, mannerisms, attire as I see from this Ball.


I cannot sense that zeal in any form which I had banished

Long ago. I made them like me and the joy finally vanished!


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