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.