Crowded
These days
I find myself
increasingly in love with
things which I once abhorred:
like crowds,
yes, crowds.
You see, I have my reasons:
A crowd
is the safest place to be
when you are
a wounded animal.
It lets you
grunt and growl
and lick the wounds
till you're ready
to hunt again.
Nobody will notice.
A crowd
is where you should be
if you want to play
say, hide and seek.
At times
you might get lost
that is, lost forever
never able to find
who you were.
But that's okay
part of the game.
Once in a crowd
you can slough off
all your apprehensions.
Flimsy pretexts of
love and care
nagging doubts of
right and wrong
won't even dare
to come near you.
Instead, you are blessed
with courage and skill
with courage and skill
of course, to kill.
One can hardly miss
the unfathomable
benevolence of a crowd.
Always keeps you locked
in its giant embrace
until you give in
and replenish yourself
to a new birth.
Faceless and soulless.
But do you know what the sad part is?
All its virtues
have yet not made me
the loyal follower
the obedient soldier
that I would like to be.
Still, at times
I feel
that I need to get
my voice back
from the labyrinth of
its endless sounds.
But it'll pass, Iam sure.
For who can resist
and who wants to miss
the might that is
the bliss that is
the crowd.
