All this attention to me is very new
Rarely, oh how is it that i got eyes of few
This is something I never knew
Do i have by any chance any power over you ?
In this, attention, the constant urge to twist what is true
To just twist every truth and do not let any one see through
Through you, and what you have due
The constant energy it takes to keep myself to myself in this view.
In the beginning I felt I was forsaken
That I will always be mistaken
My thoughts and views all just taken
That's when I left everything free, feeling half asleep and half awaken
This world around me always felt numb
The gray that I try to see and then run from
The white or black that i want to become
Work so hard and yet to the same Black or white square do I come
Sometimes it just feels hypocritical calling myself dumb
My blood appears bright red in the light of days
But it's in those dark night that it changes its ways
It becomes black and heavy to make me still and stay
Stay in one place, the Weight of doubts and worry that it lays
My mind, chaotic, the cruel trick it plays
All the power it takes for my pain to be at bay
Still reminds me that it's neither black nor white but a mocking shade of gray
The irony I see in their every bright display
These fake Pinocchio's are quite astray
I wish it could all be like chess
Everything in order, a pattern and no mess
Every piece in our life with specific moves and progress
Every possibility calculated nothing in excess
The control with only your intellectual ability to address
No feelings to hide or to suppress
No one but ourselves to contest
The abstract idea of freedom you could express
Alas it's impossible nonetheless
The more I take from this strange power
Afraid, iam of getting hungry and falling from my high moral tower
Happiness, a rare delicacy they say but to me it tastes sour
Finding a problem in everything is my secret superpower
While I take criticism head on and never cower
What is our purpose, the great question of the dying hour
While I wish to grow and provide like a flower
I always see the nice, ones here getting devoured
YOU ARE READING
The Enigmatic whispers... Series Of Poems By Flawed
PoetryA series of short poems that reflect reality, life, struggles and freedom from the shackles of the world built upon false pillars and rules, we were forged for a purpose or are we fools !
