"Beauty is truth,
truth beauty,
that is all Ye know on Earth,
that is all Ye need to know..." - John Keats

Saturday, 13 November 2010

The Bane of this Unjust Boon...

Everyone praises you for your gift,
It is common indeed,
But you know, but yourself, how that boon
Has been the bane of your life…

Sometimes I wish to give up all that
And wish, just to gain a normal life,
Wherein isolation is not
the general manner of the day…

whoever said being the black sheep
was of any merit, needs retrospect…
Sometimes you wonder,
What are you, beyond that which is called your gift…

Sometimes I smile, rather in place of tears,
On my much hurt pallor,
Whether people forget the existence of
Sensitivities on a seemingly cold, yet human soul…

I wish you were here,
One who proclaimed beauty of
so-called blessing unto the few odd we..
Sometimes I wonder what has this brought?

This gift has brought naught save hurt
Hurt of isolation, wherein love and care
Wherein acceptance in the common stream
Is non-existent… Aye, acceptance is non-existent…

These questions when asked with those
few who cared enough to listen
found the answers of indifference…
How else can I describe it, my muse?

Is it my fault, that I am not, what my age speaks?
Is it my fault, that I cared inspite of that hurt inflicted?
Is it my fault, that I still thought, I shall be accepted?
Is it my fault, I hoped?

I wonder, if loving somebody was a sin?
I wonder, if hoping that the attention was more
than a decoy… A decoy was a momentary gain…
Why, my friend? Had you asked in plain terms -

Still I would have answered you, my friend,
Still I would have helped you get through…
You need not have played this way,
In this opportunist and hurtful fashion…

Now, it is me, who is hurt, while you
Yonder celebrate your gains…
You built a stairway to heaven For this hurt
soul who but wished to share few moments…

Those stairs dissolved, in the wisps of decay,
And in the smoke of betrayal and insensitive
Role play… And I have fallen, yet again in these
Sands of earth, where care is like dew,
shortlived and hard to know…

And all, I have seen, and all I have got is,
Just the juices of scorpion’s sting…
All I have won, is the undue betrayal,
Through the bane of this unjust boon…

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju


Jingle Poetry said...

magnificent word painting...
love your work here.

Jingle Poetry said...


Hello, How exciting to land on your magical poetry land.
Hope you well.

I am inviting you to join us for poetry potluck fun.
First Time participants are encouraged to link in 1 to 3 random poems to share, old poems are welcome. Hope to see you in.

I signed in to follow your blog.
welcome follow us back.

Happy Tuesday!
You Rock!

Sounds of Subtlety..:) said...

Hello JP ^^

Thanks for your kind comments..:)
I will join your blog right away! :)

Nice meeting you too,
Best wishes and regards,
(well thats my name,but else I am known as "the Observer" or Sounds of Subtlety) :)

Sounds of Subtlety..:) said...

But friend, I will patiently check your poems and comment soon... Right now I am held up with exams...(: