There is something different in me
I am in reality, reality of my self
I can say that because I do not hear my mind
It had been long when my heart stopped speaking to me
And it regrets now, when it looks behind.
When I lie on my bed
Flashes come, where the dimension is only time
There is a variable, you,
And nothing defined
I am referred mature now by people around
I have passed the level, called emotions
My actions have a pattern
There is no shelter of justifications
I would never say it to her
I bet she can close her eyes and can get to whatever place she wants but she won’t. Some how she feels it’s an escape from the reality. She won’t even get tears in her eyes, not that she believes it is a sign of cowardice but she feels that is not worth it. I have often seen her alone, but not with her room closed. Once or twice in a day she would challenge against the most obvious and stick to it; the only reason I could think of is that she loves doing it.
