How cool it was lying there,In that little womb of yours woven with whispering warmth,I felt your words wrapped around my waiting soul,Like the rarest rhapsody the world could ever weave.So silent, So sacred, So beautiful swept in a silken dream. I wanted to get out,to that world my mother sings in lullabies,I was drawn by the delicate, dazzling, dreams of it,Dreams of a place where beauty blossoms like daffodils in dawn’s dew.Where the world shimmered with sparkling splendour,And let me to a haven of hopes,heartbeats & hushed hymns.Just like my mother's womb. So sweet,so still, so soulfully serene. Then,I opened my eyes,To the weeping winds of welcome,To luminous lies of nights and numbing neon noise,To gilded glimmers of dawn veiling the gnawing greed beneath,I blinked into a blaze of blinding beauty,And breathed in the fragile fragrance of a first beginning.Ah, I thought, what a wondrous world this must be…So golden, so grand, so gloriously deceiving. But Alas!The mirage melted like a midsummer's mournful dream.And I saw — a storm-struck steeped of sorrows,Where hollow hearts hung heavy, and hope was hunted like prey.A world of wounds wrapped in whispered wails.So broken, so bleak, so brutally bare. I saw children with sunken eyes and shattered shoes,Sleeping on sidewalks stitched with sorrow’s cruise.Their shoes whispered stories the world never heard,walked through warzones, whispers and wastes,Carrying the weight of a world that walked past them. And yet, they never spoke — Just sagged beneath small feet too tired to dream.I saw bombs burst into bloodstained blooms,A crimson chorus crying through the choking skies.Women with silenced screams stitched their skin into survival,And missiles murmur lullabies to lonely graves.While kings carved kingdoms from carcasses of the kind.Rivers ran red with the wrath of mankind,Forests fell like forgotten prayers,And even the stars seemed ashamed to shine.So cruel, so cold, so catastrophically silent. I met a world burning in its own brilliance-Where greed grins in gold, and innocence is sold,For power painted in patriotic pride.The skies screamed with warplanes, not wishes,I heard sirens sing sorrowful symphoniesAnd oceans drowned not only sailors, but also never known truths.I asked the weeping winds, “Why such wails?”And they whispered, “We are a world at war with itself.We were beaten by the boots of bias,Starved by systems soaked in selfishness,Crushed under crowns that crave control.”Their bloodsoaked tears were ink —Writing tragedies on tired skin.So wounded, so wasted, so wickedly worn. The earth, once an Eden etched in emerald,Now limps like an old woman, hunched in haunting grief.Her breath grows brittle,Her bones of glaciers vanishing like ghostly sighs.She weeps in waves, wails in wildfires,And mourns through droughts that devour all that was divine.Yet nobody hears her,sees her..So drained, so diminished, so devastatingly still. I stood — a soul split in sacred silence,A lone witness to the ruins of what could have risen.So, I sighed to the sky, with a heart heavy as heaven and with a voice of rust & dust :“I came seeking peace & beauty wrapped in wondrous warmth but as I searched for humans, Ionly saw masks,Painted with pride, pierced by prejudice.In this theatre of thrones and thorns,Where blood is bartered like breath —What a tragedy, to be born in a world So full of humans where humanity lacks the most”So masked, so merciless, so maddeningly hollow. Now, I walk this winding road —Not as a child of joy, but a seeker of sense,Still searching, still stumbling,Through this theatre of thorns, thunder, and thought.Yet somewhere deep,A spark — stubborn as a sunflower in snow Still believes,Still burns,Still bleeds for a better world.A world where wombs aren’t graves for growing dreams,Where wars are myths, not memories,Where kindness speaks louder than coins,And we — just human, only human —Dare to love louder than hate, and softer than fear.So gentle, so just, so desperately needed.