krishna kumar

Rookie (27 01 1991 / Pollachi)

The Game - Poem by krishna kumar

We will find ourselves going crazy over the things that do not belong to us and those which will never be ours...
The things that we have wont be worthy until it is lost...
We will be mostly criticized for the part we have never played and Never be appreciated for the part for which we worked hard...
Sometimes we would blame others for our mistakes and we would blame ourselves for being silent when others used us...
Things that we are hoping for will sometimes turn out to be disastrous
And things which we are afraid will turn out to be more disastrous...
People who seem to have spoiled their life will have enjoyed a lot
And people who achieved something great will worry that they missed many things
There will be people who love us and do not live with us
And there will be people who live with us but do not love us
Some people would leave their hands whose hands were been held by us strongly during their hard times...
Others' love would be ignored by us as we were busy being wanted to be loved by the one we love, who would never understand ours...
We believe the little excitement would last long and the worries and pain would not remain forever...but both will prove wrong often
We believe we were peeing at some safer place but when we wake up, we find all were just a dream and we have peed ourselves and this is life...
We did not know the rules of the game but we play sometimes hoping to win and sometimes just to remain in the game...
Some times we play against others and sometimes we play against our own selves...
We fear to play the game when we know that we were playing worst...
Yet we fear to quit the game because we do not want to disappoint our loved ones who spectate our game...
And by this way the game goes on...with the tears shed by us going unknown to anyone...
And the game always ends with pathos and melancholies from the spectators no matter of how good the game being played...
Surrounded by criticism, joy, pride, fun, melancholy, cheers, covet, envy, hatred, shy, hunger and angry, etc..
All we just stage is a circus in the naming of living a life...
But the funny thing is that the innocent people who laugh at our clownish actions will be named mad...
But when life offers you to enough chances for doing crazy things
It should be made sure that we had done more than enough...


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 9, 2012

Poem Edited: Monday, April 30, 2012


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