The Alluding Bliss

Pretending is an art.

How good it must be
Decept to be some other and let yourself free,
You are same by soul yet changed by flesh,
What dark dwells inside has got everything to bless.

The dark that washed over thy brain, the dark that caused to weep, be it health, depression or just thy stress did eureka in building a living memoir of itself;
Que made you pretend and alludingly live whilst you laid thy rest onto the dusty shelf.

Now list my tale and learn not to be frail because it's about a jail which may always grant you bail:
On a serene breezy day when my lush green leaves dance to the chirp of birds and give me their glance, my bole relishes the blowing winds outside, it's a square of green abode where I reside.
People see me with the eyes of awe and exclaim,” What a jovial tree dancing even on a day so hot!”,
Yet it's just me who knows how my insides rot.

Years agone I've grown this tall, my roots have deepened, and my sprigs have had a fall,
Now still the same outside but something about me bothers me now,
Some exasperating, kind filthy creatures feast on me as if I a metaphor for the heavenly grail, I am obliged to this kind deed of theirs as this has done nothing to me except to turn me frail.
Also, my heart aches for I see corpses everywhen, for my kinds are being killed in the jungles if not now then then.
Yet I stand steadfast, many times fear the way of all flesh.
This pretending to be well I do always and will do forever for my killers remember me when I am to be seen nowhere and strive to breath air, if pure not here, then nowhere.

Here my tale ends in a jail which I can't breakout,
But you can for sure for you have voice.
Your weepings would end and melancholia would die.
So, kick off now and voice thy dark to the ones you own
And it's no matter of time that that dark has evanesced,
The body blessed and thy feat has been professed.

~Kushagra Tayal