The Unfortunate

Hopping from one ward to another

Surpassing through departments multiple

Meeting patients who left my heart,

Which winced in their pain

With losses abide and no gain.

Met this teenage girl,

Couched in one corner of the bed

The silhouette is fenced with layers of bandage,

Repeated;

The burnt skin, the flesh still not

Recuperated.

An accident she met with,

Recited her entire story, her soul 

Deeply scathe,

“That blast viz the cylinder,” as her speech

 Halted,

Succumbing to her memories, her eyes melted.

Sabotaging my emotions, 

Received a call from another end of the hospital 

Walking through the corridors 

For yet another recital.

Travelling through the stories of fortunate 

To the most unfortunate ones,

Hiding under my degree a whole

Satire of miseries and pruned emotions.