The paint brush is moving in the air, creating creatures.
A big sized ball behind the wall, making signatures.
Ishaan's heart beats up, his mind shoots up doing literatures.
Books turns into flowers, insects turn into helicopters.
...
I don't want to cry,
My tears won't dry,
I was on high,
I was shy,
...
When I was young
I thought, i will earn money
When I become big
I will enjoy
...
Poems are beautiful.That why I love poems. They are a beautiful way to express feelings about art, inner beauty, external beauty, society, culture, and almost anything.)
He Is A Child
The paint brush is moving in the air, creating creatures.
A big sized ball behind the wall, making signatures.
Ishaan's heart beats up, his mind shoots up doing literatures.
Books turns into flowers, insects turn into helicopters.
Numbers turn into pictures, pictures turn into posters.
Ishaan comes to school but don't likes class teachers.
Ishan writes 9*3=3, they are his own answers.
Its his own world and he don't want to be among losers.