When we wanted to colour life with many a crayon,
they exploited us. We were left to just cry on.
When we dreamt of doing marvellous things,
they hurt us bad. They clipped our wings.
Fly we can now, save with great effort.
Our wings sear in pain with every flap.
We long for love, warmth, safety, comfort,
and a life of hope - one with no recap.
The psychos roam free with not an ounce of guilt,
unmindful of the trauma within us they built.
Are they even human? Don't they know of pain?
They dug deep and sowed seeds of self-disdain.
They shattered our self, making it hard to mend.
They turned our dreams into grim nightmares.
In the show of life, they forced us to force the end.
They gave us memories which the heart never bares.
They are everywhere; not at all a rare breed.
They know not religion, neither caste nor creed.
For the ruin and turmoil in our lives they cause,
we pray karma gets them and shows who's the boss.
Tempus fugit. Life must certainly go on.
Perceived ends can be beginnings-in-disguise.*
The past we'll kill and be newly born,
for from ashes do many a phoenix arise.
Countless nights have we spent, counting our scars.
Soar we will now, and shine brighter than the stars.
* - inspired by one of my most favourite lyrics of all time in Tamil cinema. It goes: "MutRuppuLLi arugil neeyum meeNdum chinna puLLigaL vaitthaal mudivenbadhum aarambame."
Meaning: Even an end becomes a beginning when you add a few dots after a full stop.
From "PaesugiRaen paesugiRaen" written by poet Na. Muthu Kumar.
