avatarParoma Sen

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Abstract

couldn’t Because I was too little, and didn’t know the words</i></p><p id="34b4"><i>So I took my round eyes and stared at him, verbally skinning a little baby coz she didn’t eat the crusts of her slice of bread</i></p><p id="b67c"><i>Wasting! he shouted hurling more curses, generalizing me with umpteen others who earned his regular wrath</i></p><p id="05c2"><i>Is it irony then?</i></p><p id="8339"><i>The sweet and sour hand of fate That as I sit at

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the same table twenty years later, it is him now Old & worn, skin all withered, who is removing the crusts from his slice of bread before putting them in his toothless mouth.</i></p><p id="4036"><i>And the words, they rise, they rise to my lips, but I bite them back, noticing but not expressing the irony…</i></p><p id="037a"><i>You mean old man, the crusts you fought for, did they stand by you, in your toothless old age?</i></p></article></body>

Crusts of Irony

Photo by Jude Infantini on Unsplash

Pick on someone your own size! I wanted to say But I couldn’t Because I was too little, and didn’t know the words

So I took my round eyes and stared at him, verbally skinning a little baby coz she didn’t eat the crusts of her slice of bread

Wasting! he shouted hurling more curses, generalizing me with umpteen others who earned his regular wrath

Is it irony then?

The sweet and sour hand of fate That as I sit at the same table twenty years later, it is him now Old & worn, skin all withered, who is removing the crusts from his slice of bread before putting them in his toothless mouth.

And the words, they rise, they rise to my lips, but I bite them back, noticing but not expressing the irony…

You mean old man, the crusts you fought for, did they stand by you, in your toothless old age?

Poetry
Poetry On Medium
Mean
Writing
Anger
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