Stop it, please!

Stop it, please!


I know it comes easily to you….
Soft and tender is your heart…
That you are so well-meaning….
Is not your fault…

I know you would like me to come to you,
That you would be happier if I smiled too….

But, stop it please!

Stop merchandising misery
Selling sorrows and peddling pity
Don’t look into my eyes to say, it’s gonna be alright
Don’t look into my eyes to do what you do
And get paid handsomely and feel nice too
Stop yourself and the likes of you

Stop needing me as a steel mill needs the iron ore

The people who find other people needy are the people who need needs
to be, to find a meaning of who they are. Repentance is perhaps about realising who they could have become.

So, my dear one, you may not be wrong, but this is definitely not Rights.
If you are not doing it for yourself
if you are doing it only for others
if you are not doing it with them
the poor li’l ones here and there
you may well have unwittingly ventured into the wrong lane.

Look for the first u-turn.

In these streets, you don’t help others. You help yourself.
You don’t fight someone else’s battle; you wage your own war.
If you are not shaken by the injustice all around, and that includes you too, your pity for the ‘children of lesser gods’ is surely and highly misplaced.
Say your prayers somewhere else, sweetheart.

You don’t look into my eyes in the fields of Rights.
In the streets of justice you look into the mirror, you look into yourself.

In these fields, you don’t please gods.
In these streets you question them all.

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