Half Truth

Life screams to me time and again,
But I feel frustrated
Because I am not able to understand
What is it that it is trying to tell me
It is similar to how one day, in all those horror movies
you meet a few trapped souls, looking for an escape to eternity.
But this time, I still don’t know,
How is it that I can help it and it can help me?

All I know is what I am seeing is just the half truth
I am shown a flash of brilliance once and then
I am again in the world of crooks
At times I wonder at my own irony
Is it just my perception of Plato’s cave,
Or I am somehow simply repelling my own safety and security.
But then I know
There are always a few who see the world in its cruel serenity
They call themselves poets, artists, but now days, so does everybody
Am I allured by a few who just cause a distraction through a magnum opus of tragedy
Am I just romancing with the idea of being a rebel? Is it really a necessity?

I see a façade in even the modern poetry,
because everyone is a paper tiger, And not what they are meant to be
I say my generation is a nostalgic one,
We have forsaken the light and promise of tomorrow
We are still awestruck by the heroism of history

We always live life in parallels,
A different parallel with everybody
I started living life with myself once
I figured out I am not what I thought I would be!