Child Abuse

Even devils act mild
Before a child
Something terribly wrong with man
Who has no inhibitions
In turning wild with a child
Uncles, fathers and grandfathers
Teachers and neighbours
All have turned slaughterers
Offering sacrifices of pious childhood
To procure blessings
For their ill desires
And the after-whispers
Pouring poison into little ears
Asking everyone
What they talking about
How ironical is this
Poor victim has no idea
Of the harm inflicted
A life burnt
In the fire of burning desires
A budding life revealed to
Devilish aspects of growth

Words and blows
It all shows
As they grow
And the snow
Of innocence melts
A wound on skin
Time can heal
What happens to
The wounds within
Life is not just
Skin thin
Violence is infectious
Why infect your child
With the disease
Ruining his childhood
Infecting his adulthood
With violence and indecency
God knows when we stop
Turning brilliance into violence

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About neetuwali

Hi! I am Neetu. Who am I? This question is very difficult to answer. Well! If you insist, let me reveal. I am a human and like every other human I eat, sleep, drink, dance, sing, laugh, smile, cry and so on. Hang on! There is a difference. Unlike most of the human beings, I breathe and when I breathe, I relax. When I am relaxed, I draw. I draw sketches of me in words. I have been orbiting around sun for forty years now. I started this journey on the Valentine day of 1974. I have seen people craving for heaven and I was born in the only heaven on earth (Kashmir). My Grandfather was a spiritual personality and a renowned poet of his time. Though he left me around 35 years ago, I couldn’t let him go. I carry him in my eyes and mind and will do that till the end of my life. I hate words, yet I am full of words. I know words cannot express, yet I express me through words, because they are the only medium I am familiar with. That is why I try to express me as much as possible with as minimum words as possible. When I did Masters in business administration, I never knew, writing will be the only business in my life. More than hobby writing is a necessity for me, because it helps me get the load of thoughts off my head. I don’t remember when it that I wrote my first poem was. But I surely know the time of my last poem. Surely,not before my last breath.

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