they smuggle mistrust in their honesty,
how could I?
So, they impose limitations over my psyche; their own,
the voices I could invariably see,
a notion fatal enough in their eyes,
am I the reality, or just the reality in disguise?
An aspiring writer based in India. In his day job he works for a Software Company as a content writer, but when the light fades away, he is a psyche searching for the feeling that is called Home. Only words (written or read) impart him the temporary condolence of being alive.