Devil On The Run
Czadanda Saint *
Though the lights of the fading glory
Through the hazy lanes of the winding memories
Though I seek for the past gone forever
I find it hard to follow the trail of the lightning
Even the footsteps behind are lost in the rain
And the path ahead is a tempting labyrinth
Where dreams are sowed and nightmares are reaped
Where danger is the middle name of every direction you meet
And in the end, I will become one of those
Nameless, faceless entity in the eternal oblivion…
They say, my curse is a blessing in disguise
No matter how many sins I have to commit
For there awaits a throne in the paradise city.
In a higher place called Heaven.
But I say,
I may be a born soldier
But made into a damned monster
I have got no place to go, to hide my fears
To reveal behind the mask, the heart drenched in tears.
I still feel the pain, the bane
Even though all ethics seem to be insane
And when comes the time to rip, tear, kill
I began to wonder, if I am a man for real
I know, I got a heart, a soul; and so I am a man
But I wonder, why this doubt still remain
I am a common man, supposed to lead a common life
But I was thrown to the wolves in the darkness of the night.
So everything bright and beautiful is blind to me
Until I am to figure out what I am supposed to be
They called me a soldier, who have seen it all
But of love, of life, of God, I have seen nothing at all
I can’t even fold my hands into a prayer
For it would reveal- the hands of a slayer.
With a gun in my hands, I got no mercy
I would shoot and I would kill, as I am trained to be
But the eerie look in the eyes of those slain
Are forever mirrored in my memory of unending disdain
It breaks my heart when I break another’s neck
But I got no other choice; I had to hide, I had to fake.
I know,
I am cursed, I am a child of a lesser God
But will somebody end it all and slit my throat?
I want it to end, I want to go to hell
Because, heaven would be a nightmare, after all this shame.
So, what to do and what not to do, with a gun in my hands
Load it, and blast through my brains
At least, the memory will end in my head
And hoping that the misery will end with me dead….
* Poem written by Czadanda Saint for e-pao.net
The poet can be contacted at saddanskhaibam(at)gmail(dot)com
This poem was webcasted on March 19 2015.
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