9/11/01- the terror and havoc it caused,
left many in wonder and shatters,
but for a different reason to my mother,
for She delivered a baby to my father—a whole new to reason to fear and bother.
Not a question of being planned or unplanned,
‘cause a gift of God I think of myself
For the little rascal that was due that day,
at a time "later" on Indian soil,
I Missed the guilt of living,
by hours only a few.
The game of missing hence continued since,
While riding a bike I thought myself a prince,
But when you fall, you learn—
From the cries, the stings,
and then hope for wins.
But it never came,
I wonder if it ever will,
Cuz an age to mingle and remember,
I lost to Absence Seizures forever.
Only a matter of time before I turn nineteen,
But this bitch who’s been by me past thirteen,
I hope she runs away,
I wonder If she ever will.
Speaking of “she”-
be it one of person
or the grades that forever I placed over all “her”s,
I missed both—
one to fear of reject while the other to the grace of neglect.
Chances I got all fresh and new,
And I know I’ll get them again,
But the pain will for eternity remain,
'cause I missed many by a few,
And I’ll miss numerous others by a few.