REBEL...

As he stands on the edge of a cliff
his life takes a brief parade.
It leaves door ajar that were sealed.
The trapped air gushes out,
damp air that brings fresh yesteryear!
Tears trickle down his cheeks
to join the fall below.
Damp eyes trail around to meet hope,
that says,'life'll never be the same'.
The rebel hangs like an old coat,
the never change attitude still remains,
but it needs some sunshine,
some amount of fresh air, and,
maybe a soft touch of caress.
Battered by rains of criticism,
tattered by innumerable cries of 'don't'
snarled by the system,
This rebel lies disheveled,
discarded like a leper!
An iconoclast with a faith of steel,
his head held high takes the plunge.
Silence!
He emerges, crawling on the shore...
With a wicked grin on his face,
Lets the white sand flow,
from his ever clutching fingers.