Exactly 50 days back I had seen him happy as he had always been.
Sadness, despair, cuts and blood, my son had never seen.
He lied every time he said those cuts were because of playing in the park.
Unfortunately, my 'Superman' couldn't gather the courage of saying his life was all dark.
Little did I know, in the name of going out, he went to the bridge every day.
Little did I know, ironically a game would paint his life grey.
On the 50th day, I saw him lying on the ground, a whale carved on his hand.
Unfortunately, he couldn't save himself, couldn't fly, couldn't run.
In this world, as vast as the ocean, a blue whale ate up my son.
