Wasted Kathmandu

 

                                                                                                                                                                                 

-LittleFawn

(A Tale of Neglect and Hope)

As I step forward, my eyes behold a sight—
Piles of waste stretching left and right.
Turning back, it’s the same scene anew,
A haunting mirror of my city, Kathmandu.

Once pristine paths, now cloaked in decay,
A land where beauty has faded away.
The air, once crisp, now heavy and vile,
A broken reflection of a once-pure mile.

The streets, no longer safe to tread,
Mountains of refuse where dreams once led.
Who cast these loads, so careless, so cold?
Who lets this disaster continue, uncontrolled?

Each time I pass, I cling to a thought—
"Surely, tomorrow will see this mess fought."
Yet as days stretch into endless years,
The damage deepens, the waste appears.

Am I too sensitive, my heart too keen?
Or have warnings been lost in a deafening scene?
The sirens of awareness, ignored and discarded,
While the city’s soul grows faint and guarded.

My senses falter; my smell fades away,
Choked by the stench of neglect's decay.
I whisper my wish to an empty air,
For someone, anyone, to show they care.

A cry for help, but I stand alone,
Speaking to faces I’ve never known.
Election flags flutter with promises bright,
Yet they cast only shadows, not solutions, in sight.

Why must we wait for leaders to act?
Can we not unite and forge a pact?
To cleanse this city of sorrow and blight,
To reclaim the streets, restore the light.

This is my plea, my question to you—
Will we rebuild or let waste subdue?
The choice is ours, this truth we must face:
To heal our city or live in disgrace.