Humans For Hell

By Jayesh Kumar Singh

Why are you so proud, human?

Because you could see the sun eye to eye?

Because the moon couldn't calm your detestation towards the ones who mal treated you?

Because the twinkling stars couldn't not side track you off from your passion for love?

Because the strongest wind couldn't throw you down on the ground when you wished to pray for heaven?

Oh you, gullible artwork made of sand, you are not righteous.

You have looked in your mother's eyes and have soared your happiness when you were not.

You lied to her when she asked you, "How are you, my loved?"

You have kept her away from your worldly sorrows, mincing the description of your situation to not hurt her. That how her strong kid can be hurt by anything insignificant compared to her righteous expectation from this world.

"Mother, the world makes me itch. It makes me cry in the darkest corner sometimes when you stand at the edge of the corner. It defiles the hope you produced when you proclaimed if you will be good, the world will be good to you. It reminds me of the apprehension when I called you in my dream and you couldn't hold my reaching hand. The world is not a happy place, mother. I wonder if this is the same world you were brought up in.

Then how come you taught if you see someone falling, give a helping hand.

If you see darkness become the light.

If you see sadness, laugh.

If you see death, breath.

Mother either you were not brought in this world, or you want us, your kids to get hurt."

Do mothers sit on the same judgement scale in the end, we human sit on?

Human, let's march towards hell with pride of fulfilling the nugatory task of protecting your mother from your despondency. And let's March on the beat of guilt for lying to the purest of soul.

By Jayesh Kumar Singh