Saint to followers–Greatness thrusted

An old poem…..Copying here

I am  playing the music of sorrow…Classic paintings

Do you have spare happiness i can borrow..


I stood  here playing my life’s symphony

Entire life i spent looking for someones sympathy


I am not a saint you can trust

Soon my mask might go Bust


Greatness was never my calling

i was not walking..i was crawling


I just did what was right as per me

Saint is what i never thought i could be


Greatness is what you thrust on me

I said No but you had our trust on me


Maybe i am a victim of expectation

My Rise was due to your exaggeration


No its not your fault,what its come to be

its just that its just not me


why have you made a good deed an exception…

why doing right is never an expectation..


inside i still am the same,,,

a weakling and lame..


I carve for sympathy and love the attention…

I think thats made me do a lot of pretention…


I dont do whats right because it will spoil my image

you gave me something that i cannot manage..


I am a weakling and not a leader of masses….

i can barely walk and u expect me to rise from ashes..


the only thing i learned from this is

there is something terribly amiss…


Violence and greed is what gets you to ways..

we have lost our good old days

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