Deathbound
Author’s Note – I recently found myself in a situation which involved a lot of rage and a wide assortment of swearing men. I happened to notice a kid amidst that havoc. The kid was mimicking his family – with the yelling, cursing and the aggression. Later a friend and I discussed this, and that left me thinking, so here goes.
What did I
Do wrong, father?
I was born,
Just like the neighbor’s kid,
I was innocent,
Just like him.
I was cute,
And cuddly too,
Just like him,
I was afraid of thunderstorms,
I liked rains,
Just like him,
I liked butterflies,
The trees,
And the evening air,
Just like him.
Yet,
When he was
Holding a fist,
I held a fist,
Not to play a game,
Like him,
But to throw a punch,
To hit,
To hurt,
To get hurt,
To inflict
What did I,
Do wrong, mother?
When he held
A pencil,
I held a knife,
I was taught,
Not to write,
Not to learn,
But to stab,
To hurt,
To inflict
Why is it,
That when he held,
A pen,
I held a gun,
I shot to kill,
Unlike him,
Who used his instrument,
To create,
To draw,
Draw a colorful life,
Why does mine,
Have a monochrome
Feel to it?
Tell me please,
Why does mine,
Only see red?
Why is it,
That when he had,
A dream,
He smiled,
And tried
To make it real,
A good dream,
A wholesome one,
Whereas mine,
Was scary,
And all too real,
It had people
Chasing me,
Hitting me,
Killing me,
Like an outcast,
Am I an outcast?
Please tell me,
Am I this because
I was made this,
Or did I become this
Because I was no good,
No, that can’t be.
Why is it,
That when he had
A girlfriend,
One that loved him so,
I had a whore,
In the place
I frequented,
Why is it
That I don’t get
A girl to love me
Is it because
I am rough?
Or am I not
Good looking?
Who do I blame?
You, father?
You, mother?
Them, the society?
Or him,
For having born well?
For having done well?
Or myself,
For not having chosen well?
Who do I blame?
I know,
I see an end,
To my jealousy,
I will do,
What I know best,
I will just kill him,
Yes,
That solves this,
Doesn’t it?
I will just end it.
There! It’s done.
I shot him,
When he was sleeping,
He is dead now,
Everyone he knew,
Cried for him,
Yes, tears,
The universal sign,
Of grief,
I am not sad,
Then why am I crying,
Father?
Mother?
Is it grief?
But I am not sad,
I said that.
It must be regret,
It must be remorse,
But why?
I chose this, no?
You chose this for me,
Father?
You let me be this,
Mother?
I became this,
This is me now,
A vagabond in this world,
Full of hate,
Rage,
Aggression,
A coward
Inside a façade,
Of false bravado,
A coward,
Blind to opportunities,
Deaf to good advice,
Dumb to a fault.
This is me now,
A vagabond in this world,
Lonely,
Self loathing,
Hated,
Death bound.
-Narayanswamy
THese things cant be explained… once some one become father and mother they will understand what are the forces which is bound upon them… least the society … but own family and certain responsibility is being shrunk… their is a demand supply ratio which is being tilted…relations are a process…
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