Saturday, 18 December 2010


Why do I like
To be loved and praised?
Why do I think
Everything meaningless and sterile?
Why is my syntax so fractured
And the world
Ever punctuating my life
That's mine and mine alone.

Why do I take everything
In terms of passion,obsession.
Why do I underline things
Which were passionless,
Though I'm a son,a father and all
That exists as human.

Yet why do I think
I'm as good as God,
And as bad as I am.
Will you answer me,mom.
Why I need a world
Vertically vivid and vibrant
To climb on.

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