You have Icarus wings,
And the sun is beating down.
Your halo is plastic,
Melting through your hair.
Think they’ll listen to you now?

Convincing as you tried,
A carnival sleight of hand,
Distracting with your clamor.
Did you hope they'd understand
While you dragged me through the gallows,
Lashed me with leather tongues,
Hoping I'd succumb to your reprimand?

Let me be a sacrifice
Martyrdom, a swinging pendulum,
Tethered to the truth etched on my wrinkles.
I’ll die never having known your lies.
No regrets will pile upon my station,
No weights to drag my feet down,
No anchor when the rope catches my throat.

I surrender nothing.

So tell them,
Talk in your Sunday masses
Tell them I was a demon,
Condemn then, condemn
And I’ll haunt in untold horrors.

Let you cast the first stone,
May it break my bones,
Truth seeps from my marrow
Bleeds out onto your stage,
How can you control them when..

You have Icarus wings,
And the sun is beating down
Your halo is plastic,
Melting through your hair,
Who will believe you now?

Ever since we gained consciousness
We were-
Taught to slit throats; not algebra and geometry
Handed not cricket bats but automated rifles

Taught not to play but to hang them by the tree
Dressed not in uniforms but bandanas over our forehead.
Sworn not to education but to shoot heartlessly

We raided a village and killed the head
Took some more of their kind
Decapitated; watched the green turn red
We smoked their temple; raised our flag
Watch the light fade
As they fell into eternal nap.

Their forces marched with guns and bombs
But mostly useless; for we hid among shadows
We reigned over branches and slit them when they least expected.
We had sworn our loyalty when we hadn't learnt to speak
We felt no joy; no sorrow
We didn't know what our future would be,
Would it be a death in the form of a bullet?
Would it be called normalcy?

One raid complete- forced to fight the next
We were always fighting for they said we were the best,
All of us had our appetite for blood,
I robbed a mother of her child-
Snapped the little thing right in front of her.
Shot one up his ******,
Plucked one off his ear-
A girl my age watched with horror, the advocacy of a Devil-
Smeared in mahogany red with gushes of fluid splashing on my face.
I gripped the machete, ready to strike
But her eyes were an aegis of her own-
An iron resistance against something that had never felt warmth,
My heart ached as if Hell was gavelling every part of me.
To tear that perfect face of hers- To gouge out her aegis with my warhammer.
Every step towards her felt heavy, so I pulled out my pistol
Aiming right towards her, my finger jammed as if the metacarpals were commanding me to stop.
I had like a Godman bestowed mercy upon her to cover up my inability to blow her the Death kiss.

As I turned the other side, a bullet flew beside my ear-
The "swoosh" rapidity bedazzled me
With anxiety and fear, I turned my back
To see my Dead Deity,
The comrade shot her dead- his unholiness pierced through her shield.
A string passed through my head and it gifted me a memory;
Of us playing in the sand building castles
Of us going to school together
Never had I seen the beach,
Never had I experienced learning,
So what was that?

After the raid was done, I plucked a blood-stained daisy and placed it over her dead body.
And to this day, I think
How life would've been
If it was different and she was with me.

Wandering around the room like I'm in a cycle, spiraling.
Hours passed, it hurts my knees from within.
Creating the millionth dream in my fantasy,
Will I ever stop this pattern or has it become a part of me?

Witnessing all these blurry images in me
Happy crowds and smiling faces, rising from my tragedy.
Is it my brain that is protecting me?
By creating false realities I've never tasted.

Should i be grateful for it or just stop?
My tasks are overflowing from the desk, a pile so high, someone could climb to the top.
My intuition tells me to cut this habit off,
Like a tumor that should be chopped.

Finally discovered it's all just parts,
Drenched in dark pitch, starving larks.
The moments i should have been in,
Have they turned into curses or are they just blessings?

Constantly putting off, it's addicting
Cause as long as I am in my head and dreaming,
I wouldn't need any other thing
Still, I can sense my higher self hoping:

Someday in the future I'd be quitting
Replacing these fake memories with something genuine
I don't know if it will happen but if it ever does
My legs would finally sigh and be greatly thanking.

Do you not agree that as humans , we naturally, all imagine the bad , expect the worst,  hope for the best? In a world without doubts of who anyone next to you is . It's up to you to prepare for the future. Cause even the smallest step can be the biggest stride forward.  Good or bad .

Lust oozing from pores
Late night, during the day too
Must stop, search the soul