A lot of words come out of their lips

And lot of those words you take as tips

To change, to force yourself to fit 

Odd determination like a candle lit

 

You grew up in the box that was made

By other people’s hands; into them, you played

Glass walls blurred the outside view 

So much that your inner world was askew

 

Kill the traitor, kill the fraud 

Kill the one with ideas too broad 

A little emotional, a little too sensitive 

You wonder why that’s not the way to live

 

Dark halves on repeat, not the light

Because you think they might be right

You’re no angel, you’re no saint 

Damn straight, your voice ain’t quaint


Photo: INDIAMART