Let my furstration burst out
The world has immense gratification,
Could you please look inside me,
You can thoroughly see my susceptible heart;
Full of puckish beats which obligate me to live ecstatically
All the puckish beats are to be lay out,
Univocal sinners are not only others but also my parents,
The lure of making me as perfect as others haunts them so much
HELLO!!! Is anybody there?
Am I mirror?
So, how can I make a perfect image of an object placed just before me?
My conscience is screaming
Could you hear that?
My susceptible heart is quiver instead of pumping
Could you feel that?
Fear of being compared persistent haunts me
Could you see that?
Because I am crying inside aloof
Can't I be as what I am?
What if a stone throws at mirror?
Presumably, It'll be shattered soon but
The object will remain as it is
I want to be that object not mirror which can't even make real image
How could I penance when my conscience ask me for its existence?
My enthusiasm becomes null
And compel me to aversion myself
Don't let me stoop to lowest,
Let me come in the existence,
Let me think my propriety,
Let me visualise the facts myself,
Let me go with my inclination,
Let me give my acquaintance to the world,
Let me get immense gratification as others,
Let me become a Live Wire.