Their lives looks like a bright gift with sharp edges,
Packed into well chosen covers,
Looking admirable everyday,
All through days,
Seldom can anyone see the corroding inside,
Unmatched boxes rubbing against each other,
Matched ones comforting,
People come and see,
And praise the beautiful colour,
The lovely smell,
Measured smiles and dignified silences,
Covering raw thoughts,selfish dreams and desires,
All because someone said once,
Man is a social animal,
The pity stars from feigning the real,
And done so well as if its real,
And so long that none can see through,
And then you are admired,
Creating another wall to cross,
If you want to break-free,
If at all you do,
What if the life was like a flying bird,
Free to move wherever it wants,
Or wherever it can,
Creating a trail of memories,that you can plunge into anytime,
Laughing and crying,
Yet proud of being unshackled,
And free.....