your nothing but an idol
You’re so beautiful, an angel almost. But the truth is you
are nothing but an idol. When I look into your eyes, I get lost. Lost like a frightened
child in a busy market. I want to ask you a question. How can you be so calm? Does
it come from ignorance? Are you ignorant to all that is happening around or is
it what you choose? Did you want this to happen? Or is the calmness another of
man’s evil painted on your face. So that everything remains unaffected and
humanity goes on believing in you, in your existence, in your unfazed superiority.
Is there a soul inside that idol? Is it weeping? Do you hate it when we make
your smiling idols and force you to smile even when you are falling apart
inside? Can you even fall apart? Gods never fall apart huh!
Tell me how different are you from a women who is beaten day
in and day out and yet made to put on her best face and serve her family,
misguide the society, forced to act happy. I am your wronged child and I also
force you to smile by painting it on your face in acrylic. Why would you then
care for me? And if you don’t why do I worship you?
And then I realize am talking to an idol. Everyone around me
is an idol with mobility, with something or the other painted on their faces.
Just idols; broken, painted, tainted, programmed. Herds of idols all around me,
the sight is saddening ofcourse but not as scary as the sight of a mirror.
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