Helpline Hazards.

The brightly beaming new born smiles,
Build sutures on the surging wounds,
Caused by creeping grouse and grief.
When helping hands hit rather than help,       
Pains boomerang from the gains of smiles.

Helplines turn into hazards,crushing hopes,
As boundless back stabs,inflicting deep scars;
Like ambulances resembling mortuary vans,
Like intensive care units,fuming fatal toxin,
Helplines drive us nervously on a razor's edge.

What cannot be forgiven,cannot be forgotten.
New pains regain their auto recharge motion,
Stimulating the helpline's itch for rubbing salt
On old bruises,and make them bleed more.
It is like sharpening the razor on a grindstone.

As the rolling grindstone,sharpens the razor,
New wounds are cast to spring taxing tears.
New sutures begin to stitch new wounds cast,
To generate a fresh stream of beaming smiles,
Foreboding a huge heap of helpline hazards.
                                                 P.Chandrasekaran.