Better Than Hell

Better Than Hell

The stream of bad blood flows

From one age to the next

And forms a rope of lineage.

Which is frayed in between

As a mark of unjust actions.

It is pulled harder and harder

To keep the tradition moving;

But it breaks painfully

Finally meeting a tragic end.

The two parts are tied again

But they refuse to succumb

To the unrelenting pressure.

For it is cut by the divine law

To strike a balance; and so

Giving birth to a rebel who

Persistently fights for truth.

To make ends meet

By any means necessary,

The rebel is lured by riches

As a diversion from wisdom.

The enticement didn't work

Because the magic couldn't

Play its cheap tricks for long.

The rebel was hell-bent upon

Weaving the frays with threads of justice.

"When truth itself cannot be polluted, 

How can I be?"

Is what he said!

But where will that blood flow,

Other than in sewage drains?

It smeared the rebel with reeking

Muck of offence, vice and villainy.

The rebel conceded defeat

When the war broke out

With false allegations that

Are not worth fighting for.

In the face of humiliating abuse

The rebel left with a resolution:

It is always better to be in hell

Than spending even a minute

More here.

July 27, 2020