Are you the one who makes me feel like I can fly?
Like the world is my oyster
Like life is an intricate tapestry, whose beauty is yet to be woven
A companion, who plants premixed dough of readymade inspiration into my mental oven
Are you the one who makes me feel like I should cry?
The singular tyrant on a fist full of people who can cause me pain
Praising my skills and instincts, tell me to shut up do as I’m told, and abandoning me in pouring rain
Are you the picture of inner beauty or the maleficent inner demon, whose tool is rage and spite?
Instead of asking me what I meant, if you had it right?