Somewhere in me
there exists a being
made up of all the reasons
that insist me
to stop loving you.

At times when I ignore it
and instead look away
towards you
It stares me hard,
starts blabbering abuse
as I keep looking at you.

But at the end of the day
when I am home,
heart-broken
by your indifference,
it reaches me back
wipes my tears
and puts me to sleep
in a blanket of lessons.

That being,
made of reasons.