Versification-First Prize

Lost Voices

Amrutha Krishna (12 A2)

The callous world that looms before our eyes,
Has secrets enclosed in the deep vaults of time,
Threaded and spun in a dreadful web of lies,
Stands the skyscrapers that have witnessed the crimes

The future of humanity confides,
in the frail voice of our conscience,
it’s not an authority that decides,
or dictates us to act in accordance.

Those who eat with a silver spoon,
and they who find a meal a boon,|
hued like the dusky robes of twilight,
or toned like a piece of cryolite:
We have denied rights with spite,
Ushered rifts with all our might,
the boundaries we have set for the masses,
Like the cryptic veil of tempered glasses.
The world has lost its love it seems,
as each seethes the blood of their kin,
revenge as the only solace, he deems,
having lost voices that caution from sin.

The meek and mute can speak,
But only if you lend an ear,
For us the future is bleak,
Fickle and devoid of cheer.

The snip of an axe can speak,
Ask the branches of a redwood tree,
For us the future is bleak,
Despite that we assume to be
The dead in their tombs can speak,
Through the voice that throbs in our throat,
For us the future is bleak,
Like a putrid and shallow moat.

Let’s revamp the rhythm of our lives,
With props of faith, trust and hope,
Seek the aid of the supreme one,
And redeem the lost voices,
of our immortal, sprightly souls.