A Child That Cries In Me

Why life should be, that pilgrim’s plight
Who chases self, thru the throes of pain?
Beyond my fear, my faith’s insight
An unquenched soul, why yearns in vain!

Whose seed bore me, in the womb of lust?
Whose dreams, I sowed in my wary heart
That creed’s, made up, of fog and dust
Wherein I’m torn, two worlds apart!

Had birth been affair, of choice, not chance
Would I still, hold dear, each hope and despair?
Why life is a sin, and death, romance
And soul, a truth, a whore, laid bare!

I am that enigma, of a million years
Whose heart ever-aches, for an ageless spree
Why a slave I be, of my blood, sweat and tears
And father A Child, That Cries In Me!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra


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