As depression takes over
and life is in trots
you know the time has come
to pen down your thoughts.
But where is the underlying story?
inspiration nowhere in sight
your own life is so void of fun
you search for stories in other people's lives.
Interesting person is like an open book
extrovert's life is already unfolded
the introvert who closed all doors to the world
is the subject whose life can be easily moulded.
Got a good start but then lost the way
you know today you're not at your best
but compulsion to search and write the story
forces you to just fake the rest.
Your philosophy of life sounds perfect to all
and with all the audience, it struck the chord
but you had messed up with the real story
your conscience knows you don't deserve the applaud.
Maybe what happened was unknown to you
your own life was what followed the start
self-restraint failed you and emotions took over
you wrote that came straight out of your heart.
Good writers don't let their story out
but what you did will take it's toll
you'll try harder to be exactly the opposite
but you still remain the same soul... the lame soul.
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