Ain’t I just like you... : A poem by Supriya Bansal

You call me a pandemic, abstruse ‘n arcane obstinate ‘n oriental, difficult to understand, 

Let me unravel, I am your replica, a ditto, a double, a facsimile, I ain’t somebody grand,   

  

I was once a baby, raucous ‘n rambunctious, impatient ‘n impulsive, spirited ‘n wild, 

Like the imprudent parent, you didn’t pay attention, you just simpered ‘n smiled, 

  I then grew up into a fanatic, zealous youth, vicious ‘n vile, reckless, delirious ‘n distraught, dabbling into danger, 

Hesitant ‘n unsure I snuffed, willing to stall ‘n stand, your perceptive prehension would’ve been the game-changer  

  

You bungled, I evolved into my grandiose gorgeous glory, loose ‘n licentious, pompous ‘n proud, 

A savage sadist I became, malevolent ‘n malicious, relishing, rejoicing in plowing the crowds  

 

In your ignorance, crude callowness, I thrive, bloom ‘n blossom, rise ‘n shine 

You still decline to align, consign, combine ‘n confine, the blame is not all mine 

  

Someday, not any time soon, I’ll be an old man, defeated ‘n dejected, gloating in the conquests of the past, 

Frail, weakened yet alive, mature, mutated ‘n wise, sated ‘n quenched, formidable ’n fearsome yet surpassed,  

  

despite all your endeavors, efforts ‘n intention, my soul ‘n essence, my pneuma will always remain, 

Just like your soul, persistent ‘n perpetual, I will be ready to revive, resurrect if called to reign again.