By Aakash Deep
It would be unfair to life,
If I blame life for being unfair,
I know it was I, who misunderstood,
Misinterpreting all, that made me,
Depressing rants, taboos engraved me,
Emphasizing trauma, contradicting elixir,
Denouncing achievements,
Misguided believer.
Unfair whom? Unfair how?
What’s unfair? If you never bow,
Each step, one heartbeat less,
One heart beats more, every heart beats best,
None is unfair, it’s I who’s lacking,
Nothing’s not good, whom was I to judge,
Far from fair, I’m just a mould with cracks,
Withering away with every tiny nudge.
It is I the unfair, the breaking urn,
Collection of ashes, extinguishing burns,
The world stays still, it is I who’s spinning,
Misunderstood this whirlpool,
For moving ahead.
I’ll try to be fair, to this cursed blessing,
Falling and crawling, slithering on calling,
The pursuit’s a hoax, it’s pain at the most,
Life’s not unfair, it is I playing a ghost.