If you can ration water, electricity, keep the door locked,
push the window curtain to peep, snob at my back, reserve your motives, smile
when you do not mean it, hold a meeting to discuss person X, attempt a fight,
fail to honour an agreement, spread wrong information about me, have hatred
against me, raise a high boot in a football match, belittle my efforts, ignore
my opinion, then I can’t count on you to take my bullet. You’d snatch my killer
the gun and point it at me.
If you can steal exam, pay your way out, master excuses,
cheat in a relationship and expect good when you can only spare your efforts,
throw nylons by the road, drive off when requested assistance, plan to rob,
request a commission for assisting, complain to be offended, be quick to
insult, have a short temper, find no remorse in slaughtering animals, feeding
the dog on crumbs, my friend, apply mascara on a black skin to appear brown, my
friend, you are living a lie. You are walking dead. You murdered yourself.
If you are a parasite, riding on people’s sweat, a manager at
the armchair, efficient in writing reports and sufficient in false hope,
rewarding those who work for you with fractions of a dollar, signing a check at
the latest hour, a promoter of poverty, a beneficiary of smuggled goods, a
trader by blackmail, hungry for power and fame, you are a clown. In all
Shakespearean world you are the least. An enemy’s sword is worth than your
life. Your name synonyms could be Mr. Impotent, Madam Sadist and Rev. Ruthless.
If you revel in material possessions, selling and buying what
Karma gave for free, a dealer in natural resources, raising walls and dogging
the gate, clustering human in terms of what you have deprived them of, a
participant in international forums to mock your actions, a teacher of religion
and not spirituality, a sheep by day and leopard by night, you sold yourself to
the devil. And the devil being the murderer he is, he comes in many forms. In
your era, he was you.
If you can count hatched chicks, count Avocadoes on a tree,
measure pints of grains to offer, give a shilling when you have ten to spare,
point an elder by your finger, challenge your brother to fight, poison the hay,
stir the well, fart in a room, hit a pedestrian and speed off, charge more than
expected, seek favours to put self above others, hijack a queue, fail to assist
a person because you won’t gain, you are the psycho of your time. On this you
would readily defend yourself because that is the nature of sociopaths. Empathy
is not their thing. Selfishness is the bond their atoms compact among. They can
eat you live.
If you can disobey my teacher and I am your classmate, you
can also disregard me as your friend. If you can treat my sibling harshly when
you are my wife, you would make it worse on me were you married to my brother.
If you can chase a maid away like a dog, a part of me was sent away too, if you
can speak ill of a person absent, then who is me to think you would speak well
of me when I am away? If you can privately act as a monster, how can you trust
yourself to be otherwise?
throw nylons by the road...
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