Siddharth Singh


The dark still pervades
Though the demons have been slayed
For the devil's cruel curse
That we aren't averse
Of the joy in the sin
And this madness is evinced
When we are annoyed or winced
That we feebly imagine
Without the ability to win
Against this evil growing in

We mourn for what we lack
And jealous for what he has
Still that face we don't show
And within it boils till it blows
The joy of various homes

An innocent is raped
Only her fa├žade is the same
But the scars that are made
Could never fade
Nor the agony of the death
Of a man whose every breath
Were named for his kin
Is a victim of the sin
For what he toiled and gained
That is all now in vain

I hold the same
A demon bound in chains
For the gifts I have gained
From the suppliers of pain
That it was hard to remain sane
In the past that's gone in vain
But as I slipped and drowned
In the depth I have found
A buried log of hate
For these inimical ubiquitous traits

Copyright 2012