Monday, December 13, 2010

I AM THE DAMNED

No, the sun wasn’t out
And her smile failed
To illuminate the gloomy day
Nor can I go on to describe her
In grand and ornate words.
 I am not the literary sort
And the last thing I want to do
Is pretend to be one.
I hated her then.
She, with her flawless ivory skin
And high spirits; the marks
Of a life devoid of humiliation
And then she did something
 Which caught me offguard-
She inquired the cause of my bruises, my scars,
That day, I was stopped by one of them
 In a khaki uniform
 You see hundreds of them
Littered all over the town…..
Brandishing their cold metallic toy
He had told me to lie down…
Flat on the ground
I hadn’t moved, just stared back
Insolently, he must have thought
 And that was when a piercing stab of pain
 Penetrated my skull
A part of me wanted to tell someone
And who better than a fool of a girl?
But would she understand my contempt
 Or would she, like everyone else,
 Chide me for not having had
 The sense to comply?
We stood for a while …
 As I contemplated whether to tell her.
 But I was afraid to change my image of her,
 Lest she spoke what
 I was afraid she might.
 She didn’t press me further
 Though in her heart,
 She might have understood.
                

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