The Damned Souls

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We are the damned souls. The ferociously judged. The slightly heard. But faced the world for the full wrath. 

The repercussions of our mere existence can never be avoided. For us, living is the hell we have to be drenched in. Life is what we have stumbled upon to know what it reckons. If we had died, we could have had a better hell. Perhaps. But who is to say?

For the great minds we possess, we have been judged. For thinking the way we think, we have been crucified. For the world is devoid of senses, humanity, and reality, we have been cursed. Hushed to be subdued. We are damned for outliving the world through our minds. We are damned for our heightened senses of pain. For the world crisps our agony to atone us for the eccentricity we have unlocked. For the socially constructed bricks, we have spattered into pieces. Our minds might not be the greatest treasuries, but the world banned the likes of us. Damned us to mediocrity and relishes of the superficials.

For the bitter lashes we have received, we are doomed to be an apostate. An exile from life. Our souls soaked the worst of fates, the rages of the rules we live by. If pain scorched us to become what we have become, why are we still damned? Why are we being flogged for the ache we have endured? All we asked was to deserve love, kindness, and patience. But we have succumbed a damnation for what we are. 

For the whims of life we have perceived, we have been damned. For the glitters of the world we have abandoned, we have been stricken harsh. For the full darkness we have imbibed, we have been disavowed of the light we need. Our transgression is the sadness we felt. Our fault was the agitation we endured. The panics we have overcome. 

What am I saying? Am I meant to judge the world? Curse my way out of life? Blaming others for the faults of my own? Embellishing my pain evermore? Most definitely not.

Yet, this is a sheer wonder. A trial of life for the verdict of pain in our lives. Does the world have a place for the sad and bruised? Are we meant to be caressed for the scars we have plunged on ourselves? Are we to be treated nicely for the share of trauma we have absorbed? Is there a place in the world for the damned and bruised? If we can’t overcome /outlive our pain, do we even have a chance to survive?

Within the whelms of agony, we breach our shields. And we receive the grotesque parcels of existing. But when we find each other, within the depth of our pain, our hearts rhyme. Perhaps, the world is for the fools. But within the strings of our aches, we exist, too. Damned to life, but still, we exist!