06/06/2011 by Siddiqui Fayesal
A painful struggle goes on inside my mind as it plays dirty tricks on my weak and trembling heart,
And I again begin my journey from the place it had pained so hard.
My moral fibre is put to test time after time, after every conquest.
One day i’ll break down and cry. I know no one will attend to my lonely requests.
A sound, as sane as can be, I hear from within my soul, chiding me for what I thought.
There starts another journey, the thought surpasses my Charity and ruins it under a blot.
Like over-written parchment, dry and stale, my languish passes unnoticed,
From my peers, my mentors, my loved ones alike. How much can i Fake it?
Maybe one day I’ll learn to give without wanting praise and applause,
Maybe one day they’ll know that their smiles were fake and their deeds were brought.
Maybe the Suits and the Ties will learn to Humble and Humane,
Maybe the masses will one day force their actions to be explained.
It hurts my eye and stings my soul and kills my fire to see a 4-Wheel Drive,
And no one gives a damn when its wheels are adorned with the blood of a child.
It kills my Desire when I see a younger Me respect a morsel of Food more than I respect my Mom.
My tears show up in Shame of being a part of me and how they wished I was gone.
I pray to God and ask Him to give me the Will to do rather than to feel.
I only seem to Moan and Groan away from the fields of War where i should’ve been.
Why is it so difficult to face the Wrath and to do what I always preach?
My knees buckle in fear with every step and I fumble in my speech.
Give me the strenght to Lead from the front to disarm the Vices I proclaim.
Or strike me down and stop me from bringing my people to Shame.