Written by 16-year-old Poorvi…canot believe at such young age how she had written these lines…

Drift

From oneself, For oneself.

The only penetrators of the Stark silence
Were dripping raindrops from the patched roof
The night in itself was an unsaid violence
The fire turned out to stay aloof.

A bane it was, A child was lost
On a cold winter day
A frail body, an oblivious mind
Swimming through the bay.

Salt water wets his skin
He shivers to the cold
Was the one who pushed him in
None but one of his own?

He owns his thoughts he owns his mind
But so guided by what’s outside;
The push was not as much as
But a slip of one kind.

The dripping drops match his pulse
Back in the lone dark room
His eyes snap open with a heavy heart
For a new long day that looms.

He looks for solace out the window
And walks across the wet floor
Watching his spectacle of…

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