If the words are critical reflections
Their reflections may be offending and scathing
At least they speak the truth
A much-awaited reprieve from the hackneyed
There is no use postponing the truth
When it is known, yet, ignored
What foolishness
Allowing lies to weave cobwebs
Like wily and patient spiders
Waiting to impale the truth
Suck out the juices and create morsels
Gulping them down with relish
Still, being critical saves the day
From frivolousness of lies
How eloquent they have become
A skill perfected and shown off with elan
But the honest critic is reprimanded
Seen with disgust and distrust
It’s the sycophancy and idiosyncracies
Having a party and raving about it
~Amitav
