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Shrinking Violets

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Too often I’m made to regret a part of my being
And I wonder if being a wallflower is a crime I committed
If keeping things harbored was more of a social crime
Than personal
If silence has nothing to do with equanimity
If hermits were wrongly quoted for highflyers
Always damning my defeat against mundane angers
That sailing through was undoable without garrulous wings
And I feel like an autumn leaf in the upbeat of springs

So let this world take heed of the one I boxed in
The one who favors ‘cancelled plans’ to ‘surprises’
I thought invagination made one look mysterious
And that I believed was rather classy
Obviously until people remarked
Gossipy for me was an outlander on earth
And simulating them, though attempted, turned futile

Pondering has always been more of a hobbyhorse
By all odds neither depressed nor asocial
But I opt out from chewing the fat and so I smile
Being in congruence is what I can do just anytime
Probably the only weakness to sleep
A venture across thoughts and emotions
Just to find nobody around and still contented
Snitching to not to pretend any longer
Even if I have to pay for what or who I’m

Stop fixing me for I’m not a crumpled flake
Being a writer is a mercy of introversion
And I’ll lose my existence if I fake
Just sit by the side, respecting my silence
Thus witnessing the other dimension of my presence

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