I sang a song that made them weep.
I sang a song that made them gasp.
I sang a song about lost love
although I had neither loved
nor suffered a great loss.

They fell in love with the song,
and showered me with praises.
I bristled at every kind word,
I loathed the adulation.
I couldn’t decide whom I hated more –
these people who couldn’t spot my insincerity
or myself for starting the sham.

Icy ball of fire,
vitriol soaked thoughts.
Raw from the undeserved love,
I sang another song –
this time of the putrid hatred
coursing through my veins.

My audience increased double-fold.
They applauded me for “being brave”
and “baring my pain”.
I couldn’t understand
how all my hostility
inspired such whole-hearted acceptance.

While I sat brooding,
one more song came to me.
A tender tune,
of warn repose.
And when I sang it,
I didn’t need to think
whether they would love it or hate it
because this time,
I sang the song for me
and I loved it.