Is This You?

By Sayjal Soni

(Colors white and black don't reflect the ethnicities around the world)

One color gained is one battle won,

The greys are the weak, die in the sun,

The pink is kind, come to my house,

The black is thief, gave him the crown.

My color is white, not worthy of death,

I am the aimless-

worse than the shibboleth,

The immoral, the filth,

the stained tenfold wealth.

Come-you all- those whose breath reek,

Throw stones at you, you are a fun freak,

A design for entertaining ‘humane’ depravity,

You have a place infinite, infinite more than me.

My palms are empty, could never be pardoned,

I am the nomad-

Quiet, but a madman abandoned,

A clock slowly rusted

A goalless soul saddened.

Chemistry of the world is a needle fine art,

Welcome are those who can tear it apart,

Crisp cities, dry dams, and blood-thick black-

Golden thrones, reason is coin, act is attack.

My actions are vanished, have no stone to grind,

I am the useless-

With no oasis in mind,

Gave the desert its drifter,

Who has no treasure to find.

Chafed by the sand, burnt by the heat,

Parched for the water, sore blistered feet,

Callous fingers, lips cracked red beet,

Beaten by the wind, violet-blue meat;

My parts that suffer, got a colored treat-

I stay wholly white, no aim the eyes meet.

My heart had it’s last cry, then it died out,

My chest hurts, I carry it’s corpse around;

The society smirks that I’d let my brain flout,

A youth floundered, age is just a sound.

Now and then, I would feel the organ reviving

Stay close and you might hear it screaming-

“Say SOMETHING!

Pray SOMETHING!

Search SOMETHING!

Hide SOMETHING!

Take SOMETHING!

Hate SOMETHING!

Move SOMETHING!

Fake SOMETHING!

If not create,

Then break SOMETHING!

SOMETHING?!

ANYTHING!

Anything other than this mindless drifting,

Counting stars and the sleepless drooling,

Kicking dogs and relentless complaining,

No colors, a canvas insult to painting.

“Tree rings have increased but opposite is your value,

It is not zero yet, so get up and throw something;

If not, then get up and throw yourself over a wall,

What you are is a spent shell, burden to them all.

A mosquito they kill has a purpose in the morning,

You are a listening deaf, a wishless wasteful warning;

You are a spare, a nothing, worse than a drugged man,

Atleast he is a customer of the villain in the bad van

“You wanted to break the mold, the mold broke you,

‘I’ll never be corporate old’, as if they’ll look at you;

‘I’ll be one of a kind’ a kid-you said and that you are-

The only one with no car to shine is now what you are.

“Look at me! look inside yourself for a second you fool,

I had begged my last drop for you to pick up a tool!

Now you’d die somewhere in this rotten forgotten wasteland,

And even the teal vultures will not eat you-

See their color means a fight to survive,

Your white means sweat never touched you.”

I howl and I dig my virgin nails deep into my chest,

“Quiet” I beg, “let me squander days like the rest!”

I am pathetic, but no liar, I admit I was the destroyer,

Yet I flee from me, a wretched weep; I am the boldest bolter.

I’ll kill you, my heart, then count pebbles on the street,

One million three hundred and two is a number to beat;

And the civil will watch my show from shops I can’t enter,

Shake their heads, rubies, wine, and a decadent decanter,

I will then gawk back, like a man does at a zoo animal,

The truth is turned, all my instincts are merely primal.

A reality acknowledged is a reality remained,

The most colored is still the most maimed,

The hunted, the trained, the runner, the mountain

The world is theirs, a dearthless dream fountain.

I took the easiest road and my color is white,

Not pure, but untouched by anything bright.

In my undeserving and undesired end, learn from my plight

From the dessert's depth, find my heart and listen to it tight:

Hello,

I was the aimless,

(A narcissist humbler),

And death of aim, is a death of breath:-

Lungs should be tired,

Skin broken in sweat,

Mind sharp as knives,

Boulders on your chest;

Only then you’ll be coloured

As that is ultimate, unstained, tenfold wealth.

By Sayjal Soni