I Would Forever Remain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 04, 2018

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Submitted: May 04, 2018



Call me a lump of infinitesimally squashed tomato; or Call me the diminutive tip of a sordidly despicable matchstick rotting in the abominably fetid garbage heap,

Call me a languid spider nonchalantly fretting on the damp walls; or Call me the wisp of that capriciously fleeting cloud which didn't know even the slightest of how to enchantingly rain,

Call me an insipid molecule of threadbare dust being blown to far and obsolete places with the tiniest draught of wind; or Call me a preposterously pot-bellied whale devouring countless innocent in a single mouthful,

Call me a ghastily unforgiving demon blowing my worthless trumpet at will; or Call me a lecherous parasite sucking innocuous blood even as midnight unfurled into the scintillatingly spell binding day,

Call me a baseless moron staring purposelessly into boundless bits of blue sky; or Call me a sleazily mud coated pig aimlessly wandering without even contributing an ethereal iota to the fabric of this colossal planet,

Call me an insane lunatic paying a wholesomely deaf ear to the inclement orders of the conventional society; or Call me an irately impudent brat; indiscriminately feasting on the wealth of my sacrosanct ancestors,

Call  me an invidious ant horrifically stinging the chapter of glorious existence; or Call me the grotesquely menacing crocodiles tooth ever ready to pulverize anything in vicinity; to inconsequential pulp,

Call me stray gutter water meaninglessly gushing across the dusty street; or Call me uxoriously fanatic behind the tantalizingly raunchy seductress,  

Call me a graveyard of utterly deplorably loneliness; or Call me a lackadaisically nonsensical flower without even the most obfuscated insinuation of scent,

Call me a dastardly traitor turning my back to my sacred motherland; or Call me a wave of unendingly treacherous obsession which could never ever end,

Call me a pugnacious insect buzzing in cacophonicallydiscordant incoherence when the world slept; or Call me a demon having a gargantuan appetite for every insidious thing in the chapter of vibrant life,

Call me the most curled bristle of the sweepers avaricious broomstick; or Call me a complete misfit to symbiotically exist with the harmoniously melodious society,
Call me a miserably maimed organism without hands and feet; or Call me abysmally dumb when it came to matters of synergistic pragmatism,

Call me a punitive curse for the trajectory of this boundless planet; or Call me a bizarre eunuch pathetically unable to procreate even an element of my own kind,

Call me a brutally massacred and orphaned egg; or Call me the disdainfully abhorrent grime on the shoe; which intractably refused to move even an mercurial inch,

Call me a ludicrously fading reflection eventually blending with the oblivious horizons; or Call me an impotently undulating ocean without even the tiniest
trace of poignantly ravishing salt,

Call me a disastrously slithering fish without any aim or direction; or Call me a destructive volcano of negative energy; born only to annihilate civilizations to traceless ash,

Call me gory impediment for one and all on this globe alike; or Call me a ghoulishly venomous spirit spreading its remorseful jinx even centuries after veritable death,
And you could Call me by whatever name that you could ever conceive; But for those of you who like me; and even for all those of you who detested even the most remote
fraction of my quavering shadow; I would still and forever remain the way I am today; immortally bonded with love; immortally bonded with a fathomless entrenchment of poetry; poetry and just; sensuously Divine Poetry.

© Copyright 2019 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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