Life‘s like a death well, you have to be fast paced throughout your ride; the more you slow down, the more arduous it becomes to survive. Treading with the “crutches” of society one faces the cobwebs of life, to confront the atrocities whatsoever. Nevertheless whenever he has been kept in exile, the suave soul inside has faltered to exist; like a fish out of water.
This poem is about a girl born with a nose, a mouth and all the normal features that emanate the femininity of her existence. But she is lonely. She is living in seclusion from the society for her complexion being dark. Being a headache for her parents, she finds it hard to pave through the roads of society. Casted away to another world, she swirls with the winds of disgust, everyday being slaughtered with the agony of being neglected. Albeit, dying everyday she has, after all the years of endurance, learnt the way to live after every death.
This isn’t a tale to mourn the ill fate of a specific soul…It is dedicated to all those people who because of their tryst with destiny were born different from the orthodox society. This is a grail of honour to all those who longed for some moments of recognition their whole life.
“THE BLACK TRUTH”
Every dawn I rise from slumber
To wash my face in remorse
To spend the day as a loner
For my skin coloured, unorthodox.
It leaves me to wonder
About the sin I committed unwittingly
For inheriting the trait
As an asset of my family.
With every stare of sarcasm upon
I climb the stairs of life, limping
To sip a cup of coffee all alone
To eat the cake without an icing.
Plagued with the agony of neglect
I peek through the window of hope
Seeking for a safe pair of hands
To let my suave soul inside cope.
Wandering like an orphan
I gave my soul a tread
For that handsome apprehension, I longed
But found my alter ego instead.
My heart burnt with every debacle
And the citadels of melancholy got built
Coercing me to take the step, final
And end the gruelling soul and the guilt.
PS: The work is incomplete. I will be posting the complete one as soon as I am done with it. Cheers
Biru
2 comments:
The motive of a poem is to make the reader feel of what it says.
Not only these but all ur poems do the justice to the fact overwhelmingly.
But every time I go through ur poems, I don't know I feel like surrounded by a cloud of depression, suffocation and ruled by some power.
I hate ur poems for the fact that I can't stand the feelings but I think it's not my fault but it's the fault of the power U have poured into the poem.
Sorry to say that but i cud not control it..
Sorry to hurt you...
But you know... I feel like there are too many photographers in this world who picture the beautiful and glamorous part of the world, I just feel like making people aware of the grim part of world... that is still around
Nevertheless, I will be back with colors other than Blue... :)
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