Why is it that a saint having fun, gets himself branded as a Satan? Why is he subjected to rude stares? If an addict decides, To tread a mosque’s stairs? Why is no one given a choice? Why everything needs to be predictable?
Why do I love to talk in it? That which is not my voice? Why do I have that need? To meet society’s creed Why do my thoughts have to be classified? I rebel now and here I don’t belong anywhere What I think now I may not believe When you try to retrieve I have the right to shift my thoughts To let them grow Or they may stay stagnant If they decide so
I am at war with myself I can fight only a single one The battles you keep bringing to me Are not mine to win! So let me be, I am not the master of self I must conquer the inner me I could have used your help Not this sympathy I do not deserve I have no right to be disappointed by you, I am very good at doing it too.
I am waiting for a day I might lose hope often But I will one day soften I will be liberated The staring eyes will not bother There will be no one I would want to please My forehead will have no crease I will be free I will be free