I know,

I’m a ‘Pawn’ in Chess,

with seven of my cousins,

tied to the lawn of the game.

We pound the pavement,

with all our grace,

but don’t receive the Almighty’s praise.

No tactical call sign

directs our trail.

We are just deadbeats for them,

gridlocked in a few odd-colored checks.

The ‘Bishops’ are stamped

by the hope of war cries,

but we are glued to

dry bye-byes!

The ‘Knights’ are served

“Words of wisdom,”

while we are displayed

as mere herds of the kingdom.

The Rooks are addressed

with ploys and plans,

but we are unleashed

to play with toys and stand.

-By Rishika Rathore