The Idle Piece

By Tanish Gupta

The beautiful ones

The ones without flaws,

Of unseen evil of listless purpose

With masks of innocence,

Take and break all

From heart to soul;

And forever remain a wonder

A regret or a title,

Title for swords of satire

That thirsty poetic guillotine,

Never can be not a face

Not blinking eyes not a breathy voice;

Bound to form for better form

Never allowed to be more,

So seek silently not

Appreciation but understanding,

To not be all they are to see

But only what the heart can feel;

And so their liberties from guilt

Is their burden to take,

To never be stopped

Or blamed they become great and feel

The remorse of the divine without their power,

And being without flaws

The ones they have a right to,

Makes me not their critique

But sympathiser.

By Tanish Gupta