RAGE
Simmering Rage, this gentle world fills
Blind Rage fanned by sympathy,
Sympathy which around us mills
Arousing Rage instead of empathy.
Rage that we cannot our conscience still
Rage against our hidden guilt,
Rage blurring and blinding our vision till
Sympathy is covered with a dark quilt,
Of apathy, on which we proudly walk
No longer seeing the ones in need,
Of indifference, on which we boast and talk
And to sympathy's calls we pay no heed.
We hear not the supplications of the weak
We care not whether they starve or feed,
We slide past those who our sympathy seek
Or bury them like lifeless seed.
For without Rage our minds to seal
From the suffering which fills our world,
Knowing we are helpless its sores to heal
Into insanity, we would be hurled.
Simmering Rage, this gentle world fills
Blind Rage fanned by sympathy,
Sympathy which around us mills
Arousing Rage instead of empathy.
Rage that we cannot our conscience still
Rage against our hidden guilt,
Rage blurring and blinding our vision till
Sympathy is covered with a dark quilt,
Of apathy, on which we proudly walk
No longer seeing the ones in need,
Of indifference, on which we boast and talk
And to sympathy's calls we pay no heed.
We hear not the supplications of the weak
We care not whether they starve or feed,
We slide past those who our sympathy seek
Or bury them like lifeless seed.
For without Rage our minds to seal
From the suffering which fills our world,
Knowing we are helpless its sores to heal
Into insanity, we would be hurled.
Deepak Menon
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