The destination of life is same for all,
Just
the path gets contrasting as we crawl,
A
few reach the destination with comfort,
Utmost reach
it with a lot of tiring effort,
In
the end heads are high for some,
As
victory comes beating a drum,
But
most have drooped down head,
As
defeat causes tears to shed.
Dawn
to dusk is the time for them,
Who
have incurred a lot of fame,
With
foot on ground and heads up sky,
They
move with pride and wings to fly,
Dusk
to dawn is the time for them,
Who
are bound to hide faces in shame,
With
foot on ground and heads hidden down,
They
are treated as town's biggest clown.
I
count myself among the latter,
As
life of mine is in a tatter,
Fallen
dirty in some forbidden corner,
Life
has always appeared as a scorner,
With
people overpassing me every moment,
Close
one's consider me as bad omen,
Thus
I move deserted with shadows side by,
There
appears water stains below the eye.
Sitting
on the empty benches in the park,
I
am forced to hide alone in the dark,
With
some fellows like me sharing other benches,
We
are all cognate,fallen in the compatible trenches,
No
hands do ever show up for our support,
Only
countless lips inundate to snort,
They
whisper to compose fun of our failure,
Almighty
seems to be our only saviour,
Streets
buzzing with various loud sounds,
Every
footstep causing vibrations on the ground,
I
can feel my heart urging to be among the crowd,
But
I fear stepping in seeing the overcast cloud,
It
may rain any moment with heavy drizzle,
And
people may taunt me making me frizzle,
So
I elope late when everyone's back home,
Quietly
without avoiding to disturb famous Gnome.
Back
at home affectionate darkness prevails,
With
cracked walls and water patches forming scales,
I
sit with a lighted puff gasping at the moon,
With
no words to speak,sinking in a swoon,
This
state of mine had been adapted since long,
\From
the time sadness tied me with a thong,
Hopes
disappeared,Dreams shattered down,
It's
been long I am holding my battered crown.
POET
BY SITUATION
&
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