This evening, were there thorns?: A poem 

I have an analogy to myself; without the mark 

of congratulatory annotations. It’s been like 

this since time flew like a rocket-bird into 

the universe. I never did anticipate a creation 

that would be rocked by mutiny perpetrated 

by an alien. I hardly ever thought about being 

invincible till I was undone! I only felt the petals 

of roses till the thorns began to grow so thick  

they cut and bruised me. And I have lived every  

life in the realms, confronting this. I can hardly 

believe in mitigation after so many cycles, leave  

alone redemption. Perversities have a way to victory, 

if not sustain themselves. Yet, how can I abandon 

my flesh strewn in various portions around this unfortunate 

manifestation. And could I forsake it all, to avoid the pain? 

Is duty a repository that must never be left vacant? 

No matter, the grief that comes from it? I endeavour 

to be found each time I’m lost. It is not only a battle  

with my enemy, but also with myself; for all the pain 

I’m subject to. I am just an amelioration, in any case, 

as if I have learnt to soft-pedal my own destined 

unsuccess, even if I could call perseverance success.  

You can say, there is too much villainy; and too much  

submitting too many souls to its treachery. But I have  

never reckoned or admitted that I have gone white with  

the fight. I still have shout even with my lips stitched tight!