Here again goes,
Like a talk everybody does,
Talking and stalking: foes,
Taking a stride, there again goes.
Isn’t it strange, so bizarre,
How things are: getting condemned,
Reasons that can’t articulate, so rare,
As if you are forever doomed.
We scream to the mistake,
Done but by others,
Failed to notice, what we couldn’t partake,
The bigger thing than the soft feathers.
Yet we go on, reasoning silly,
Pretend things done are always right,
Failing to look back, things bigger: lovely,
Yearning but only things concerning;
That’s so big “I”.