My hands trembled with fear,
The decision to put down
my spectacles had me in tears,
Reality would be distorted
with its end near,
Polarizing perceptions and
consequences severe.
I put my spectacles on the table,
Everything was blur instantly,
I could no longer witness the
prostitution of daughters by
parents in whorehouses,
I could no longer witness the
prostitution of God
by men in shrines,
I drank adversity like it was
some kind of fine wine.
I’m not a poet anymore,
I’m just a hypocritical swine,
Caged by my thoughts and deaf at times,
The world is blur to me and that’s a crime,
For if it’s more miserable,
I’ll go blind.
Dedicated to all and none,
By Piyush Sonarikar