December 6, 2008


I didnt know what to name this, its presently named the XYZ. If you can think of a better name, and i think you can, please suggest it to me. Here's how it goes:


My distorted reflection on these wet tiles,
when i wake up in the morning, with my lonely aisle,
is the only thing that hears me,
and laughs at me,
points at me,
turns down a part of the shaft in me,
burdens me, points at my disgrace,
and all this while, i couldn't hide my face,
as water evaporates on a sunny day,
my mind escapes my body in a funny way,
coz its found a solution outta this maze,
but cant progress, coz it cant see thru this haze.


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