crumbled on that piece of paper flying away in the wind was a to-do list of dreams
once during a sleepless night he had thoughts, ideas and plans to achieve means
now as he sits having sold his dreams for alcohol, racetracks, resorts and riches beyond hope he sees
the material life, luxury are nothing but a deception to make us seem as if we are in control of our needs
while being used by what we use; it is a conglomeration of an unrealised assault on our nerves & cords
and as we sit on our majestic seat and play the cards game thinking we will win, it is always the house that holds
the winning cards and we are just passengers on this bus ride that will not last for long
but we still travel on thinking we are the drivers and fake being strong
but the utter contempt at our future us that has far far-long foregone the ideals that used to rejuvenate our soul makes us sick
the preachers preaching their false soliloquy for which he had written down all counterpoints are also lost in a diary he lost
and though he sharpens the blade of career he realises that the real purpose lies subconsciously, dormant waiting to explode and it is a cost
be has to bear for time is an evil that refuses to stay still for even him flashing his shining watch on its face
and smiles, feigns interest to make conversations with people of faith and no values and sheep that follow norms and trends that will reap no benefits
attempting to find a place in this world where their growth can be curbed by applause, compliments and hide their real and inner fears
how does it feel?
to be a known unknown, a famous forgotten face, a soundless song, with everyone & alone.
मंच 