I am just, right now, feeling too futile: A poem 

There is a heavy stone that I have borne, 

an undeserved rapining curse on my throne 

My sacrifice, I thought, was what had shone 

But how helpless am I?! No vindication, all alone! 

Does the first and oldest primordial star 

only burn to be fated star-crossed by far? 

Does evil have a legitimacy of indelible tar? 

But that doesn’t make me ever want to forgive Prakash Saint Paul, even at my most difficult hour! 

He has brought upon me demons tormenting my shirt and skirt 

All through the billions of years before earth 

And my ageless sacrifice can never hit paydirt 

I have no wish to suffer him anymore with rebirth 

Jashmina, your love for me seems, to me, hollow 

Do you think deceit is warming to my pillow? 

I want to be gone; it has on me dawned 

everyone pleases Prakash Saint Paul’s treachery; my integrity is pawned 

If God can’t redeem himself; what is defence? 

Is the evil deep sea the real omnipotence? 

And me, God, suffers endlessly for His largesse 

Is impunity, not retribution, evil’s redress? 

Must the valiant only suffer treachery and torture? 

Does this give me any hope for the future? 

I don’t want the eternal aphrodisiac or tincture! 

I am just feeling too futile at this juncture!