Sitting Under a Torn Umbrella

A Clear Confession of a Man

To come to last part of life,

I would like to kindle a light.

Nothing else but the light of sense,

A burning flame of conscience.

Standing before a window I make a confession,

I have done wrongs infatuated by the passion.

To have a lucky fez on head, I never made any mistake,

I never missed to reach my specified target.

Fortune smiled upon me but I was not fortunate,

Always had to compromise with conflict of interest.

Very often I took undue advantage having used manpower,

In the eyes of common people I was a social worker.

Followers under my custody had no conception,

I could have changed my colour like a Chameleon.

I do swear! I never have killed a man,

I have murdered humanity rather than.

People had a good faith on me as a well performer,

They never had any suspicion about my eye-washing character.

With my faithful hands, I have strangled beliefs of man,

Their hopes, ambitions paid no values for that I played a sham.

All along I made a strained relation with them,

Shallow brained people thought I was poor man's friend.

Oh my God! What I have done is not fair,

I do confess my offence, Shower upon me your kind favour!

It is an acknowledgement of a tired passenger,

Who has come to last phase of life for final departure.