Bleak and baffling,
My life seems to be out of key,
Not because the prime mover has Chosen it for me
It is because of the culpability in me.
Baseless, fictitious and worthless Are My deeds,
Upscale, immesurable and luscious Are My needs.
The off-key vocals of reality are Haunting me,
And the good vocals are too often Left Unheard.
Sometimes I wonder, is there Anything Minor than me?
Is this what I'm supposed to be.