Thin-thick, black-white,

He-she, scared-might,

With spoon-fed views in blind eyes,

We're infants weeping in beds of lies.

Aren't we stringless puppets,

With wingless dreams?

We're born to measure,

A sadistic pleasure,

Every centimetre,
Of his/her character,

And yet,

We claim our broken souls' unbroken,

Ugly hearts' pretty,

Empty minds' witty,

And then reach ...

Read and leave comments (0)