They won't tell you
It's orange or guava
They don't ask you
To buy them that
Tiny toy or shiny shirt
In the showcase
For none they are
Nuances or burden
Keats's sensuousness
Doesn't chram them
Still they move on
Though silently
With rainbow
On their faces
Masking every whiff
Of sobs or grief
To our nosey eyes
How swot, how illustrious, how cool
There is a wide space
Unoccupied in their hearts
And they know anticipation
Of caving is a self deceit
A silver partner,
Like their shadows,
Walks along with them
Each of their footfalls
Is worth praising
As they dishes out
Inspiration to broken hearts
That life is not lived as it is
But it is created and then lived
When it's comfort to us