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Revered Naive

Updated on August 18, 2017

Poem

This world, this world of thine,

Is not at all divine;

Nor is speculated, as thou speculate

A utopia of bliss; thou envisage.

Each man is carriage of his chafe:

Pomposity turns to his folly,

And all I’m is a naive.


Everyone will flatter thee:

Whilst thou beseech; but what in misery?

Obdurate they call me, for I blemish,

Such despicable relationships.

To brute like I shall always fit:

A pristine abuse, so be it:

Yet, I shall persist!!


- Divyanshu Bargali


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© 2017 Divyanshu Bargali

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