Waiting for an eulogy

I am a curse, not a blessing in disguise,

I am a rift of senseless demise,

I am a wail not the gloating pride,

I am what you call “Not to be idealised”

I have a void deep in the heart,

I have a smile designed as an art,

I am scared of every persona,

I am what you call “Caged in Corona”

For every Scar I was blessed with an excuse,

It would take years to have me deduced,

You have been greeted with the scar I protrude,

My smile is what you call “Scar of recluse”

For every lesson I have prayed,

For every blessing I foresee a grave,

For every dance I pray for  to be flayed,

I am what you call “The unknown Slave”

With every lash I have built my hell,

In every stone there is a story to tell,

I was outcasted from the world for being different,

I am what you call “The silent insurgent”

You see the luminance jutting out from the lamp,

You bask in heat from a fair distance,

You won’t see how anger has fueled this raging light,

I am what you call “The burning delight”

Now my fuel is low and my fire is worn out,

From the center of my hell here I shout,

I have burnt myself in societal ideologies,

Now I am resting.. waiting for an eulogy.