There is one portrait
Hanging on my wall,
Purple black horse
Shiny and tall.....
I always feel his eye on me,
That curious orb gawking at me...
Is it my illusion or the fact?
I need to find out by any tact....
I remember that day,
When I drew him
While nervously eating
My chococream....
I poured my soul
To make him look real
Still marvellous and ideal...
I still doubt,
Is that my soul arrested in him,
Shouting to come out?
Or
That mysterious horse wants
Chococream out of me,
To shout?