Under the scorching heat and light
his eyes burnt quite a hole in the soul
they were black and shiny
peeped right inside the hollow bark.
chipped away a part of you
so all that remains was quite farcical
the luxury of being inside the shade
didn't quite feel right so much so.
the two other shades sitting right beside said nothing
dwelling into darkness were the arms that reached us
not a twitch, not a bend
we are conditioned not to
or else there is so much that you could do
drive them away or let them burn a hole inside of you
we quite choose to ignore the inanities in us
instead it should be their fault
lowly they look and lowly they sound
the sound of hollowness
the eyes that scorched black long ago
even the youth doesn't feel so much alike
all the hearsay sounds straight from the horse's mouth
marriage discussions and family affairs
cries and curses they sound alike to them
as there is just so much as to what they could pay heed to.
one of me got sucked into a vortex of memories
walking down i saw many staring at me
with nothingness with charcoal eyes
they all said nothing
no palms
no arms reached out
but they did want something
or they didn't but i felt so
because why would they otherwise search
search inside you
scrounge for something
not penny not anything worth
but just maybe a feeling altogether
a feeling that one may know
they don't really care if you do
they have been sucked into the casuistry
of what is wrong and right
of what remains of them
and the rest is eaten long before
hands crippled and legs bandaged
the want is to evoke
the other sought to a lot different approach.
don't they know its easy to provoke than evoke
for people may sought their biases and typecasts
altogether in a cauldron that smokes of stench
ridicule them not help them
give them alms maybe but condemn them
for nobody wants to return them alight
for the mat is covered in squalor too
the languid hands and criss cross of fates
lines on the palms stretched across.
one mocked at him painlessly
the other said nothing but fought with the first
he rallied along the hurt
the first stuck to his guns saying "there was no affect"
was there or was nothing but the same illicit pain
the pain that gets them up each morning
the pain that no matter how disparaged they feel
doesn't die away.
it was him who packed up biases to explain the pain
to the first, for he remained in denial
the ride ended with a sudden realization
circumstances never got wrong but he did
incessant preaching meant nothing
will power ambitions and drive wasn't enough per say.
all that remained was gloomy and rosy
whether he should leave it up altogether
turn the dial opposite and stand up for it
or his hollow nothingness would peep in
each second
without them noticing
it didn't mean a thing to him
as he moved on to the next
and thereafter the next.
for he only knows if it did affect or not
traffic moved on and so did the sun.
