We all have our own worlds to save. For me I have my world, the one that used to have disco balls as stars and icecream sunshines. The one that used to be lush with words and clouds, the one that reverberated with giggles and lullabies. The one that grows cold in the sun and hot and bothered when suppressed. The one in which a stream of tears used to flow through, revitalising the earth after rain. What happened to it? I left it to save your world, to shake your skies with laughters, contemplating silences and smiles. And then a new 'now' struck my own; depriving it of air. Now here I am trying to save it with a fistful of dead leaves and plasticine; kites whose strings labyrinthed my wrist. Here I am like water, torn between two Earths. Here I am trying to save it with hope. And there you are, with your five-minutes glance; your condescending air trying to tell me "why ever did you leave it for me, I didn't need help, as it is."
We all have our own worlds to save.