Making Me Small

Wondering down the memory lane,

With my both eyes blinking in awe,

I send some sharp sickles to the past,

Trying to look after the young age, of course.

 

It’s evening it seems like looking out of the window,

When will my heart open to know what there is outside?

And if I know better than what I know now,

Will it ever seem to make a difference?

 

Hitting the road hard with constant thump of foot,

I recall myself making my weight large.

While I sneak as soft as I could in those eyes,

Those small shades of truth make me feel hollow.

And then I take alarm of a chance,

That once taken will never be repeated,

But then of course, lies and deceit is all that I do,

And make sure it doesn’t make sense at all!

 

I appear in the light of today,

Glistening by the charm of my words,

I bend before my virtue as I do,

Not make a chaos towards a different truth.

 

With little mind of mine wailing to see a tomorrow,

Calling it a day where future is foreseen,

Thanks if I don’t pay attention,

To the offer of the world of making me small.

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