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Reflections Of A Guy Gone Paranoid - Poem by CANDID XPRESSIONS

As I sit down and write about what i just saw,
i cant help but ponder on, the wonder called man,
loud music reverberates around,
music which makes you go mad,
coz it never makes sense, , , , , ,

however, ,
it somehow succeeds to
send people to dance floors,
let them forget the world, , , ,
let them forget people around them, ,
let them forget that they are men,
with spirits,
with feelings.
it makes them remember that they are stone hearted beasts.,
prowling around with open jaws,
to bite the life out of anybody,
tear his flesh apart,
to mutilate his bones into uncountable pieces, , ,

blood gushes out from their mouths, , , ,
their teeth are witnesses to it, , ,
they give the proof,
the introduction,
of the blood thirsty hound that lies within, ,

i cant help but write this, , ,
cant help but wonder at this sadist called man, ,
As i gaze at the person just in front of me..
i cant help at my helplessness, ,
or my indifference, ,
or perhaps a mixture of both the feelings,
in inappropriate proportions, , ,

loud music reverberates around, , ,
probably sum marriage anniversary celebration,
guests are enjoying the sumptuos food, ,
they'd probably be knocking down glasses of wine, ,
imported, , ,
whilst i see this guy,
braving this brazen winter, ,
with a heart, not sighs nor cries, ,
they must have dried up, ,
eyes like his dont get wet these days, ,
kind of used to the indifference around,
just as we are,
kind of used to the sadist that lies within us, , ,
wide awake, , ,

he pushes his movable wheelchair
propels it forward with all his strength, ,

his hands! ! !
dont they feel cold? ? ?
probably they dont, , , ,
or probably they do, , , .,
do people care? ? ? ?
the hell they do, ,

they are preoccupied with several other important things..
like knocking down glasses of wine, ,
like dancing on the blaring music..
like subduing the voice of their conscience, ,
trampling the God within them underfeet
torturing their spirit to an extent
where it doesnt get up and protest, ,
it surrenders meekly, ,
sits down in a corner
nursing its wounds, , , , ,

i see my friend, ,
pushing his wheelchair forward, ,
steadily, ,
disappearing in front of my eyes, , , ,
getting mixed with the dark of the night, ,
or the grey of the roads.....
i wouldnt see him tomorrow,
or ever, , ,
i continue pondering over, ,
my helplessness, , , ,
my indifference, , ,
my callousness, , , , ,
on the dirt called 'ME'., , , , , , , , , , ,

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Poem Edited: Wednesday, December 23, 2009

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