Eunuchs - A Cursed Creation Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

Always laughed, cursed and dies without will;
Where birth in itself is mourned as convey of ills
It has a soul but sans all joys spill.
I am always at loss when come to wishes' fulfill,
No love and care even when yearn for thrill.

Dance and sing for world's joys and chill,
With tears in heart, bless other's pain to kill.
It is all past lives deeds, ordeals and skill;
Dreaming the goods is a chore uphill.
Life cursed, unnoticed, sad and still.

I am a permanent loser, existence ruffle,
A sad soul, sat on a dark night rail,
A crying soul which has burnt and tired quill,
A soul who looked through light trickle,
My morning is always in smoke whirl.

I am a soul too happy to die in a while,
Too quick to glimpse and stink the last mile:
The self who is enduring too long but me beguile,
And wishes too gently and seldom the fairy isle;
I am the soul, all rituals spine but vile,

Who am I? A clay, boneless - playable, pitiable;
The soul, they label petite, lest a fool;
I challenge to grow but sees life a sick survival;
I am the rail on which all cursed to cross in real,
The telephone for many terms and tone but no goal.

I am an ugly face, seated in the field of battle,
I am a tool, to which life tough to tackle'
I am a sound, uncomplaining but in turmoil,
I am the dust in a desert, crying for survival,
Stone-for-a-statue but ready for burial.