OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD

(A flower in my garden) Beautiful to the naked eye, yet growing at the expense of tears, From a fountain of overdue languish, watering down the seeds of regret. Surprisingly, the passion to garden these flowers, a never-wilting will.The prickles, a subtle reminder of how painful caring is. (I will be your helper) An acclamation that never materialised. I have been made a slave with a twisted spine and broken back, carrying loads of promises that never conceived.The help, a promise of a sun in winter. (I will fight for you) A proclamation of shadows on a cloudy day. I have stood in rings of unwarranted bouts, an amateur boxer, taking on heavy uppercuts for being the bigger person and facing my demons head-on. Cheering on in the corner, the silence of a fighter that never was. (Through trials and tribulations) I take the stand as the accused, defending the honour for the accused, fighting the unfound litigation before the court of validation. A suspect, suspected of heinous crimes that only the accuser derives from a vacuum of evidence. (You are the food to my soul) The culinary artistry of continental dishes I have been known to dish, Only but a paradox of "Gandhi" feasting his appetite to freedom. The frailty of the soul that lingers, a clear manifestation of an ungrateful "viscera." (You are the spark that ignites my desire) The ignition that bore more than desire. I sit comfortably, inhaling the smoke from the fires of constant outrages unleashed. The spirit to quench down the blaze, are but tales of a ghost fire-fighter.