By Md Farhan Khan
Never did the benevolent light
Of love shine upon mine soul of filth,
The cleansing I wanted.
Filled with spots and rots
As I went away, swaying and dancing
In the tearing breeze as it tears
Through my skin to take away
A piece of my soul—
For this was the only cleansing I got,
And deserving was my part in it.
Burnt not by the flame of warm love
Or that of anger—
It was the loathing born
In the eyes of those who saw me
That finished the last part
To my rotten soul.
In the end, it was the wind
Tearing my soul
That made me feel loved,
As in wanted by something,
And someone,
Even through all the wicked
I have done
To those close to my heart,
Whom, as I look to—
Are void of anything except a shadow,
Of a forgotten beautiful past.
A past that, felt like a dream
A dream of things I wanted-
To be the one wanted,
Light on my dead face,
And the chime of smiles.
Still, I fear the sounds-
The ones those come from the mouth
Of none other than hate’s child-
A look into whom, carries my features,
Built part by part, even the loathing eyes-
Face of a dead man and oh the disgusting smile-
They hate me- every word-
Breaks me, Tears me-
So they fulfill the purpose of cleansing
By tearing the filthy parts of mine remaining ,
Crushing with nothing but words
And a disgusted look.
By Md Farhan Khan
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