Twas Winter

Twas the winter of bad decisions,

None of them were bad people,

Satan had not chosen them as significant parts

In his bid to wage war against The Almighty,

No,

They were merely a group of people

Incapable of rising in predictable scenarios,

Miserable apart,

Bitter together,

They tested the limits of unconditional love,

As one attempted to drug herself into an oblivion.

The others rolled their eyes,

Noting the failed attempt

as a mere cry for attention.

A child throwing up ingratitude,

As means to achieve what she perceived we didn’t want for her,

And so they acknowledged it,

Turning away and toasting the Christmas birth of their father.

We are not bad people,

Bad choices,

And bad decisions

Haunt our footprints,

We are stuck in recycled predicaments,

Incapable of breaking free,

Help us,

Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem,
Sincerely,

- a badly battered servant