Sunday, June 9, 2013


The happy faces is what we see
But underneath lies a truth so grim,
For tresses of darkness engulf it all,
The faint smile of life lays stark, in a hole.

They come out of nowhere and pull you in,
They make you rejuvenate on chords of sin.
Wicked the religion, that’s for the beautiful thugs;
They weave gauge and cut, that’s their pleasure drug.

They sting the strong, they kiss the weak
For life is a game and that’s all they seek.
You walk and chatter, you dream, you frown,
‘Cause these puppeteers make you dance like a clown.

Clotho spins her spindle glazed,
Sloven Lachesis has the measuring blade,
Atropos slits the golden thread,
And the soul is taken to Hades’s gate.

Just a marionette for the time being-
Waiting for the flicker in candle of wit
Or to render some tremendous feat
And Fates will make you their favourite keep.

-Vaisakhi Mishra