Cunning of the human mind,
Shrinks from a night of grief,
Smells fear and laments for relief.
The old, the new and the fake reality,
One by one are toyed with,
Resilience trembles in its boots,
‘To sell or be sold cheap’,
Surely, an old pick-up line of the lone wolf,
His gut sniffs out exits in the jungle,
And safely steers home,
Back in the rut, comfortable and sound,
Sleep remains a million miles.
A bargain is struck,
A toothy grin exchanged between,
The scared and the exposed,
Lies flow, camouflaged, of course,
Yet, can cunning win always,
Isn’t affection a high price to pay,
For a luxury you can afford?
3 comments:
nowadays it is a high price to pay..
Someone is Special
of all the luxury that could be afforded, in an attempt to satisfy the cold guilt,.. affection is that can't be priced, that which holds the warmth and the light
P.S.: you indeed are a lesser known poet, but a poet I respect :)
aJ
@SISpl, every geneerations strikes a bargain, fear does that to most of us.
@Aakash,yup, but its sold cheap anyways...oh,and I am not going to be lesser known for long :)
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