Not those, which kept me, in rapture
But the ones that, left me crestfallen
The sweetest miseries, I incur
Are mine truly, in life’s liaison!
The tears I spend, o’er kin and mates
And those I spare, for a throbbing heart
Betwixt the two, in dire straits
I farm a soul, torn worlds apart!
Don’t seek, to find me, in that mob
Where I mimic, blind sacraments
Nor one, in the heap of, Les Misérables
For I’m the man, my pain invents!
As I trace my treads, thru bygone time
I pride myself, on my being’s bedlam
Could better be, life’s paradigm
For Pain Is All What I Am!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra