Mumbai Bomb Blast

A Six Word Story

Javeeri Bazaar. Diamonds scattered. He bleeds

I am a slave

I want to do many things, but the body has its own agenda, if it decides to imprison me under its moods, I feel too weak to protest, I stretch a bit, then motionless, wait for it to break its spell.

Oh dear. I am a slave
slave to my body
who choses what I should do

The day I decide, that I shall not follow the rules, I gather up my wits and force myself, with few steps to freedom, I fall half way down, lie on the cross-road, too weak to arise.

Oh dear. I am a slave

slave to my body
who choses what I should do

Time moves on, one more day wasted, too weak to watch even a sunset.
I wait, I wait.