Was It His Fault? Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Was it his fault; that he was born horrendously blind; witnessing nothing but remorsefully crippling darkness; since the very first cry of innocuous birth?

Was it his fault; that he was born gruesomely maimed; deplorably staggering into a valley of insipid nothingness; never able to confront the Sun face-on?

Was it his fault; that he was born preposterously deaf; unknowingly smiling towards the graveyards of extinction; while his tortured kin shouted their voices hoarse; for instantaneous help?

Was it his fault; that he was born with abhorrent mental disorders; remaining as stoical as a decaying leaf; even though the planet abreast him unfurled into an unfathomable entrenchment of panoramically blissful newness?

Was it his fault; that he was born disdainfully dumb; not able to express even the most poignantly fulminating of his desires; as unsurpassable rivers of priceless blood rolled down his nimble cheeks?

Was it his fault; that he was born treacherously orphaned; with the most fantastic days of his childhood being evolved in the realms of the fetidly threadbare dustbin; while children of his age floated through castles of celestial honey?

Was it his fault; that he was born ludicrously jointed at the skull with his twin brother; with every minute of resplendent life feeling more lecherously sordid than the coffins of death; as he winced every moment in agonizingly traumatized pain?

Was it his fault; that he was born with disastrously proliferating tumor in his head; an untamed volcano of misery that kept augmenting more thunderously than white lightening in sky; even as toddlers of his age relentlessly embraced the clouds of uncontrollable euphoria?

Was it his fault; that he was born in the gutters of abominable poverty; with all that he ever got to devour being infinitesimal left overs of bread; that the dogs of the rich had abysmally abandoned?

Was it his fault; that he was born to a bawdily adulterated father; who fed him insurmountable waterfalls of venomous wine; everytime that he demanded for immaculately sacrosanct milk?

Was it his fault; that he was born ridiculously stammering; pathetically stuttering at each word he attempted to speak; while others of his age; melodiously blended with all spell-bindingly enchanting rhyme?
Was it his fault; that the was born worthlessly lynched; being enshrouded by a ghastly incapability of not procreating his progeny; while the planet astoundingly culminated into a boundless shades of colors outside?

Was it his fault; that he was born inconspicuously midget; mushrooming into only size of a pea at adulthood; while infinite of his compatriots stood as tall as the invincible mountain chimes?

Was it his fault; that he was born as black as feckless charcoal; with even the most flamboyantly scintillating mirrors; gorily shattering into invisible ash; at even the most capricious of his reflection?

Was it his fault; that he was born with the voice of cacophonic crow; with even the most tenaciously Herculean of entities preferring to die; rather than listen to the tunes which emanated form his incongruous throat?

Was it his fault; that he was born dolorously hunchbacked; assiduously struggling with the weight of his lackadaisically doubled body; while even the criminally blood sucking vultures had been endowed a right to uninhibitedly fly in the fathomless sky?

O! Yes; But it was certainly his fault to be born amidst you all; because you were the ones who made him tirelessly realize that he was brutally deprived; although you possessed all of the above;

You were the ones who not only languished in the aisles of catigatingly castrated malice; who not only cribbed and cried even after being gifted with such a
wonderful birth; who not only jeered at the inevitabilities of mesmerizing creation; but sardonically ensured that there cropped countless more of his kind.