Panic grips my heart,
As germs of fear enter my blood,
Biting every ounce of enthusiasm,
Every bit of mental strength,
Baffled by the onslaught of those faces,
As I look in sheer disbelief,
At the army of mutilated faces,
In this strange world created by God,
Plunging my whole being into emptiness,
Without a trace of hope; and lord being my saviour.

O! Lord; so beautiful is this world you have made,
Turbulent rivers; high mountains,
Clear blue skies; yellow seas,
Dazzling sights; treacherous heights,
But what form of beauty is this O! Lord,
Unfolding a trauma of ugliness,
The most deplorably dreaded form of a human being,
Circulating spasms of fear in my mind,
Leaving me in second thoughts,
As to what really is mankind.




© nikhilparekh