Don't you feel it,
the way I feel.
Reality would always have it different,
but at least, let me live with it in dreams.
Sulking am I,
in that unconscious world,
when I wake up,
pretense is my sole love.
For this is not affordable for me,
as I cant revolt against myself.
And if its not meant the way, it should,
would have to bear it alone.
Does it really mean nothing to you,
or you don't want to be pampered.
Indulgence would obviously gratify,
either both of us, or
the whole set of our senses,
cluttered and battered.
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