I open the window
Now I open the window and look out of it:
I see people in hurry not grudging their feet.
They have nothing in mind except comming in time.
Though "not-thinking" is clearly a crime.
I can say that I suffer my brain being fast.
It oppresses me deeply that I can't outlast
When it makes me believe I'm not worthy a darn.
Then all choice that I have is to run.
The self-doubt lives in me and impedes my outburst.
I can't put all my guts on the top to be first.
Still the hunger inside eats me fill with the pride.
It is killing me from moral side.
Day by day I'm becoming a bag of the nerves,
I can't stop my brainwork that pulls stunts and the curves.
I can feel I'm becoming a mad-man one day.
Thinking drives me insane in some way.
Maybe I shall stop having high feelings and thoughts,
And I won't join the raw of the daffy crackpots.
I'll become just a body with nothing like soul
And stop playing a hominal role.
