A Voice Unheard - Part II: Poetry

Forbidden Fruit

The first time I dared, to hope against hope,

Ended in painful disaster,

The first time I opened my eyes to the mere possibility,

Ended in a rude awakening,

My mind was probably in a deep slumber,

Out of reality's firm grip,

No wonder I floundered and made myself believe,

How could I have closed my eyes to the truth?

But opened them to a distorted lie?

Again, I can only infer from my lapse,

That my mind, my sense of perspective, my guiding force,

Was far from awake,

There can be no other explanation, for my illogical behaviour,

The emotions were high but the fantasies higher,

By deluding myself there was only one person afflicted,

Me and my overly sensitive heart,

What trouble I have caused myself?

Hope is for fools, who chose to blind themselves,

And numb their ears from the undeniable truth,

Hope is the perfect tool for such self-deception,

The ingenious mechanism that aids in shunning reality,

What a fool I was to have told myself that,

Things would be different now at least,

That you would be different from all the rest,

I should have realised long ago,

Not everyone is so fortunate as to be accepted and needed,

By all who are acquainted with them,

Perhaps I should have used my past as an example,

As an indication for the future,

And been so much more careful,

In guarding my heart, disallowing it any freedom

To roam the wild jungles of humanity,

Self inflicted torture this is,

A never-ending saga of tears tantrums and pain,

Oh why did I dare enter this vicious cycle?

Why did I allow myself this momentary deviation?

From this lonesome path allotted to me,

I guess self-contentment is not a human quality,

And I am no exception to this rule,

This pain is hurtful, ruinous. . . . I wish to be rid of it,

At least the lesson has been learnt,

I shall never yearn for forbidden fruit ever again.