Jumped the gun
chasing unrealistic dreams
Talked about things that dont change
Hit the roof
Didn't brushed my hair
Sitting ideally - in an existence of dilemma
Situations stucked up in a jam
though with a vigorous nausea
Digested guilts & misfortunes of my own delight
protecting me from myself
Like a beedi burnt till the end
A wonderful story almost complete
But at it's last few pages the writer dies
Life is beautiful!!?
It's sentimental, old & not funny anymore...