We are our other self,
not just one but two.
One of them’s the other,
the other one is you too.
When you ask yourself,
to whom are you asking?
When the answer comes,
either way is just our liking.
We decide to be our own eyes,
move the target to our aim.
When we miss or decide to finalize,
always find others are to blame.
It’s very much impossible,
to guess the path you see.
Without something at the end,
you’ll be just another bumble bee.
The odds are in your favor,
if you listen to your instinct.
The only way to fail forever,
if your ego has to be distinct.
There is no such thing,
as an apparent reason.
Way too many variables,
when you change with season.
Everyone is lying to each other,
even just a tiny little bit.
This is chaos because everyone,
is looking for that one big hit.
dead beat poet 