OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD
(A flower in my garden)
Beautiful to the naked eye, yet growing at the expense of tears, From a fountain of overdue languish, watering down the seeds of regret.
Surprisingly, the passion to garden these flowers, a never-wilting will.The prickles, a subtle reminder of how painful caring is.
(I will be your helper)
An acclamation that never materialised.
I have been made a slave with a twisted spine and broken back, carrying loads of promises that never conceived.The help, a promise of a sun in winter.
(I will fight for you)
A proclamation of shadows on a cloudy day.
I have stood in rings of unwarranted bouts, an amateur boxer, taking on heavy uppercuts for being the bigger person and facing my demons head-on. Cheering on in the corner, the silence of a fighter that never was.
(Through trials and tribulations)
I take the stand as the accused, defending the honour for the accused, fighting the unfound litigation before the court of validation.
A suspect, suspected of heinous crimes that only the accuser derives from a vacuum of evidence.
(You are the food to my soul)
The culinary artistry of continental dishes I have been known to dish, Only but a paradox of "Gandhi" feasting his appetite to freedom.
The frailty of the soul that lingers, a clear manifestation of an ungrateful "viscera."
(You are the spark that ignites my desire)
The ignition that bore more than desire.
I sit comfortably, inhaling the smoke from the fires of constant outrages unleashed.
The spirit to quench down the blaze, are but tales of a ghost fire-fighter.
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