I slumped tired into the park bench.
With a world without friends and filled with foes,
I have only this park bench to share my woes.
My soliloquy of sadness was suddenly interrupted,
When a ragged person occupied my bench,
With grunts and murmurs and angry whispers,
I knew I had a complaining companion.
He was looking around in suspicion,
Like he was expecting someone...
The expression and his dress, I must say,
Was like a scarecrow to shoo everyone.
Looking at him gave a sense of unpleasant comfort,
For a person in bad shape, there is always someone worse.
The way he moved about trying to hide his face,
Something sinister surely lurked on the other side of my bench.
Fear gripped my inners and terror sent tremors in my soul
What if he was that irrational fundamentalist,
Or that misguided soldier of holiness,
Who wished to turn the park to a death hole.
Part of me wished to run and other prodded me to stay,
Conscious and Conscience competed within to show me the way.
As the dilemma drama was reaching the climax,
A little girl came running towards the soul in rags.
I clenched my fist ready to attack, A new energy surged through
I have lived a loser all my life, To die a hero may be my ticket to heaven.
I braced myself for the final moment and ready to pounce,
The little girl was really close, the interval of error was becoming thin.
The girl reached the burly man and gave a cute smile,
O! The irony of it, The devil ready to devour an angel,
She gave a pen and paper to the man, and asked...
"Autograph please, Al Pacino. I m a big fan".
Shock turned into surprise giving way to admiration,
The mask of the devil peeled way, revealing the angelic actor instead.
I got up in embarassment at my stupidity, thanking my momentary cowardice...
I realised that angel could spot the angel but devil searched for the devil only.
Judgement of good and evil of our neighbours is so easily passed by us...
Forgetting the fact that the devil on the parkbench is none other than us.