The nights falls and its pitchdark now, not a speck of light in my room.
Feeling the weird eerie;absence of something can be so amending.
I am struck, how any I would fit into the consensus of an societal norms.
Being happy and being sad, is just same to me.Such an ambiguity infused in both the half of human behavior.
Day and darkness, I don`t know, what to judge. Poet fears the day,they find serenity in the dwelling, a seer up joy. I am now in an awe to struck some iconoclasm and bear up the pain of being judged too.
I don`t feel the need to draft something as callous and tick my perceptions in a righteous manner.
There is a simple chaos and extreme havoc in being me. I maybe inactive in justifying my virtues, but that`s what drives a human. We are imbued with our own vices but we account our virtues.
Time and time, we feel weak, we feel slackness, like a closed room, longing for a presence.
The world, inanimately feels the need for a disorder,then only order will be there as it itself surrenders to a serene state.
The self-esteem, acquainting, clubbing to be a perfect pull, to fit in this world; a domain of human civilization.
I do long for those rigid substances, those thoughts, those moves, those motives; to be present, rather then
pushing myself from further deterioration.I am aloofed, abstention from any contact from the external world,yet yearing for a utopian maze. I am just being me, all over again.
Feeling the weird eerie;absence of something can be so amending.
I am struck, how any I would fit into the consensus of an societal norms.
Being happy and being sad, is just same to me.Such an ambiguity infused in both the half of human behavior.
Day and darkness, I don`t know, what to judge. Poet fears the day,they find serenity in the dwelling, a seer up joy. I am now in an awe to struck some iconoclasm and bear up the pain of being judged too.
I don`t feel the need to draft something as callous and tick my perceptions in a righteous manner.
There is a simple chaos and extreme havoc in being me. I maybe inactive in justifying my virtues, but that`s what drives a human. We are imbued with our own vices but we account our virtues.
Time and time, we feel weak, we feel slackness, like a closed room, longing for a presence.
The world, inanimately feels the need for a disorder,then only order will be there as it itself surrenders to a serene state.
The self-esteem, acquainting, clubbing to be a perfect pull, to fit in this world; a domain of human civilization.
I do long for those rigid substances, those thoughts, those moves, those motives; to be present, rather then
pushing myself from further deterioration.I am aloofed, abstention from any contact from the external world,yet yearing for a utopian maze. I am just being me, all over again.
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