Pretending Disappointment Poem by Shubham Agnihotri

It feels like I am
Going through the hell
I keep on telling myself
Let it go quite well
My heart and my hair
Through every orifice
Let it blow up and tour
Inside me until sufficed.
As the gusty wind
Hits A wind chimes
The moment hits me
But I am hanging fine
Swinging and a sound
Pleasing the air around
Out of deference to the Hell
I am a ringing tubular Bell.
I do suffer and suffer
They think me a buffer
A place to have a hold on
To wait; are they poltroon?
No one of us can escape
From each one of us
Yet I do smile as fake
As I cut a failure cake.