Titanic

The tormentor,

Stands and smiles.

Surreal reels frame the seconds-

As the clock ticks on-

The camera panning to show the expressionless faces.

The boat had rocked,

And freedom had come calling.

Temporarily- a sanity from the vanity-

Yet, was this the route?

The conflict thus lay,

In self-image and self-denial.

Worry lines become white wrinkles,

The frown- a permanent smile.

The throne lies vacant-

But was it to be adorned?

Introspection reveals a dead soul-

As the vacuous mind,

Stares at the road ahead.

Is this where life must be headed towards?

A pitch for green but no relief?

Numbers crunch,

As footsteps falter.

The road seems dubious-

As somewhere,

A voice calls out to refrain,

And not plunge.

In an ideal world,

The moment seems perfect,

To precept a rise.

Rush through the fields of gold-

And conquer the many pedestals.

Yet, an idealist is just a dreamer.

With paltry hopes, settling as fickle wisps 

That marks arrows to an desired road.

Confusion also reigns on-

What's right, what's not?

What's left to be right?

What's a dream and what must be the path?

What's the way to really go on, from here?

An angry heart rules the  mind-

This road is not mine.

A debacle calls for a debate-

That elevates but not rebates-

The greys.

As the mentor had turned a man-eater,

The monstrous passage,

Could only harden the submissive to  be 

Without emotions and actions.

The eyes, sleepless, seek a solution,

In the darkness of days.

Eerily, the  answer lies crystal clear-

To the unasked question.

Nepotism, is not the way-

The forum lacks an appealing form.

There's a Titanic in every ship,

Which will sink-

Fact of the act is to

Exit on the Incline.