I've got same black hair,
Okay, I'm not that fair.
And, same couple of eyes and ears,
Yet, I'm judged by clothes I wear.
My skin's darker,
But, blood's the same,
I find it rather more harder,
And - no place for me to be.
When I gaze into the mirror,
I wonder if it's telling the truth?
Or mocking me?
From day, till night,
Avowals my frame uneven, the face thinner,
The marks they multiply, the teeth are no cleaner,
Sometimes, my ears are broader, sometimes narrow,
The hair were a mess - but, they are now fine,
I'm fat somedays, while squeezed on the others,
Somedays I'm tall, while somedays, short.
I curse me, and God even!
But, I'm no different, I'm only human,
Though, the strange stare you encounter,
There's nothing hard, nothing wrong in it, now, or thereafter.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic Rhymes.
PoetrySometimes, you might write some junk, in the middle of the night. All you've got to do is, grab a pencil and a paper, and scribble. Who knows, one day, you might compile the bits, and name them as 'your work'. It's the result of the same actions. Wr...
