Contrived

It’s difficult speaking with the blemished words

Feelings capsize at the first hour of an impending storm

How long the nature of language be unperturbed?

If they do not seem to be friendly to the tongue

Faltering at the entrance of a vibrant world

Unwillingly chaperoned towards the complexities

Which are mere perceptions, alright, but persistent ones

Grovel at the first instance of real conversation

Finding faults with the philosophies reflecting a lacuna

Between the evolution of new language and expressions

Whom do you holler at?

Creating a staged spectacle with sarcasm and archaic feels

The words didn’t have a chance to evolve

There are lesser chances of defining ‘Fine’ in such times

Crowded metaphors look like a masquerade

Such banal tirades are usurped by the greedy tongue

Contrived feelings strum a different rhythm

Words are the casualties, and language feels insipid

~Amitav