THE FAKE IDENTITY
I could not draw a line
Between dancing
And jumping
Singing and talking
Living and just being alive.
Noise was music to my ears,
The more human it was,
And more grating
I found it the more satisfying
The ceasure of noise meant death.
I wasted myself
Trying to become human,
Was I a barbarian when born?
Was the bard a liar
Who talked of intimations of immortality?
How much was lost in transit?
And how I was robbed on the platform
As I landed,
They took away my essence,
And supplied me with an identity
Till today, I am sporting that fake identity
Gods often appear in my visions
And tease me,
Lost man, they cry, and smile
At my helplessness.
Jernail S Aanand
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