Chriping of birds sounds irritating,
Why is it feel like everything hating.
Sitting all alone in this empty corridor,
Forcing myself not to walk out the door.
All around are people present in plural,
Staring eyes makes me look fooler.
When do this loneliness turned so heavy,
Is it just learning who make us happy?
Then again we die alone,
Buried into different stones.
Never become content with self,
Maybe thus we are termed a mess.
When will we learn? When do we get?
A single person is a group itself.
Dependency a weakness,
Freedom a joy.
Only believed when badly annoyed.
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