You can runaway,

You can start again,

Turn your back on the past,

And, do it all over again – and, again!

Whatever you do though,

You can’t runaway from your memories,

For we are the sum total of our constituent experiences,

If you did miraculously somehow manage to detach yourself from them,

You’ll either be dead,

And, certainly, never the same again.


Predators among us roam freely,

In search of ‘prey’:

Making lambs at mercy of wolves and hyenas of us all;

Suppressed instincts that never left us;

Corrosive tides and difficult lives,

Washing away disguises borne of lies;

Sated by voyeurism;

A precursor to a revival of barbarism;

Or, their modern equivalents:

A meditation of the withdrawn for some,

Known as ”Hikikomori’ in the East, and “Recluse” in the West;

Outlet for boredom and over-complications,

Morbid fascination turned perversion for others,

When, abnormal becomes the new normal,

And, drawn-out silences are shattered by blood-curdling shrill cries;

A chorus too frequent to be isolated,
Ineffectiveness prevails,

And, what justice there is:

Is delivered at the end of the barrel of a vigilante’s gun.