i am imaginative
i am objective
i am half-witted, and i am selfish
i wonder why people think i pretend to be dumb
as if dumbness is a new flavour to get drunk
i hear the tic-tic of heart....
i wanna see beyond the tears...
how does it feel to be unchained and to be free-spirited? ? ? ?
i desire to taste it once......
i pretend to be ferocious to be stalwart
no one has ever touched the real me
i feel like rejected, forlorn and abandoned
i wanna touch the euphoria
i worry about the inevitable
i cry that the moment has passed for ever
i understand the kinship the agony of tribulations
i say be a rebel but do i really wanna be it....? ? ? ?
i dream of watercolour effects coming to my life
my canvas never remains dry
i try to be brisk,
the jewel of evry eye,
but destiny lands me in the boiling bowl of contempt and cry
i hope a stupendous morning comes when you get to know the real..... me......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.