Don’t call me out, blame it on yourselves!: A poem 

You can’t call me, God, out with your invectives 

when you all did it for your own selfish motives! 

I, God, sublimely subordinated myself and became vulnerable 

And I bravely suffered; call out `I can’ from `Able’ 

There has always been Jacob and Lord Ram in me 

who sacrificed so much for purpose and love for eternity 

And you all think you can pander to beguilers and thieves 

because what is precious to you all is the looted money! 

The bee in the bonnet is a hornet’s nest, but I know best 

For it was I who did the favours and honours; if you forget, lest 

There could have been devastation, if not a greater mess 

if I wouldn’t have suffered for you all, or suffered any less 

And do you all hang your heads in shame to have the fruit 

when you shamed and treacherised me to my roots 

I can tell you all, it was my sacrifice; you all only bothered with the loot 

Blame it on yourselves! I’ll do exactly as I please! Because I do it for the truth!