He said,
He wants to be like me,
He said,
He wants to wear my person,
I told him to go beyond me,
I told him to be his self,
He was taken aback,
He thought I'd be glad someone else
would want to pencil himself to be like me,
I’d rather not,
He doesn’t know me,
He shouldn’t be like me,
Who he sees on the surface,
Is not who I am,
Who that appears unruffled,
Is not the real me,
I create the person he sees,
With much strivings and unrelenting zeal,
I hide the uncanny side of me,
I lock it deep down,
There are two worlds in me,
There are two forces at war,
This he can't fathom,
This I can't elucidate,
It’s a webbed experience.

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Mohamed Sarfan's picture

Dear Poeter, As a human being, every day allotted here seems to be full of struggles for life. The man who is imprisoned at birth in the prison of individuality seeks life relentlessly in the path allotted to him until his own death. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations

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