This consistent need to change
This burning desire to be better
Am I slowly changing for good
Or is it good that I am changing ?
I think a lot, speak a little
I dream a lot, act a little
This constant void that I feel in my Life
Why, why, why, I think to myself yet again
Caught in this trap of monotonous mind battles

Why do we become blind,
When we love someone so?
And blind again with hate,
When we let it grow?

We see no flaw in one,
And only flaws in some.
Why do our hearts so easily
Make our minds its gun?

I am a Prisoner.
Prisoned in the cage of expectations and social order.
Perhaps that’s why I long so deeply for solidarity.
But these chains won’t break—no matter how hard I try.
They feel eternal, their grip unwavering and cold.

O My dear Mr. Moon!
You might not know this,
That whenever I glance up at the darkness of the night sky,
Your elegance moonlight provides me solace,
And hope for better days to come.
Your shine comes from the mighty Sun.
But you don't have to be the Sun dear.
Do you know that your scars make you so divine ?
You don't have to be perfect.
You have millions and billions of admirers you know?
Even if you're not a star,
You don't need to be.
Cause you are the moon!
The only moon,
That leads the way.
When I am lost,
In this world full of toils.

I just asked you few things to keep in mind,
Before you open your mouth to talk about me.
I have clearly expressed my intension to stay away from the crowd
But how come you forget this every time?
Every time?
I can't fathom this act of yours.
This running circle of arguments just because you don't listen.
I am fed up, fed up, fed up of this.

I wonder—why do my eyes always find you?
Was it that day I caught you staring, just once, on a sunny winter afternoon?
Or is it the way we always seem to cross paths, as if by fate?
I don’t know what this feeling is—
But whatever it is, I’m certain it’s one-sided.
And I know I must let it go.
Because seeing you, and saying nothing… is torturous.

When the glass shattered that day,
all I could think was—please stop.
Later, it became—I hope the pieces fit back together.
And now, it’s—I pray they don’t break further.
The pain, you ask?
It’s still there.
Only now, the numbness is manageable.

I live around blurry faces,
Face of people I used to know.