Read it somewhere but don't really know,
Been running with the light but progress still slow.
Passion, Compassion weighing either side,
It's getting harder to balance & feel all Alive.
"No time to Think! High Time to Act!"
You'll fulfill the needs; that was the pact.
When Comparisons fills Garage,
Expectations builds huge Mirage.
No one to listen what's driving you Crazy,
All they can see is a Hopeless & Lazy.
The Mind starts Exploding the Fears it held,
Diminishing the confidence present in Self.
A Broken Soul screams on the Inside,
But a Cheeky Girl always smiles out Wide.
Nobody to be blamed but yourself,
Since all left now to drown in Regrets.
Down to the very bottom of the sea.
Where your soul finally seems to set free.
A Dungeon that was always called Home,
Is no more capable to Handle your Tone.
The Shackles have now turned into Accessory,
Your work now seems most Honory.
Does it make any sense when you've become Famous,
Only after addition of the prefix Posthumous!
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