Virgin heart

THOUGHT

I wonder what makes my life so simple

Is it my work or speech or my stars that twinkle?

Right from my childhood I have always received 

Teachers' praises for every tiny height I achieved.

Every passer by wish was fulfilled

Without me ever expressing my will.

I was just practical with my ways in order

And inhabited in my mind's racing recorder. 

I am indeed aware of all my innate flaws 

And thus inch by inch each day I withdraw.

But my backward movement seems invisible

Since I am gifted with a magnet indivisible.

I attract all things alike - good and bad 

Bad seems to make me learn a lesson on time

While good comes as pearls strung on line.

And when this makes the motion forward

My joyous heart feels shortly absurd. 

Its the incompetency that eats me up

Along with insecurities of flaws which club.

I sometimes need someone to convince me

That I really deserve what comes my way so easily.

Hollowness vacuums my lungs inside

As I move to better place to reside.

Am I really worthy of this fortune?

Is question I face every morning and noon.

And probably this makes me so modest

Making my image so perfect and best.

But isn't this worse than ostentation

As hypocrisy mocks at my mirror reflection?

When will I taste the sweat of my hard work?

When will my clothes be darkened with dirt?

I want to experience the joy of labour

And not sleep on bed of roses of unknown favour

There was no apparent silver spoon 

But life was made easy by just one boon.

That boon is my mother who toils for my life

Every second for peace she has strived

And til now I passively enjoyed fruits of her action

Ignorantly living in mode of richness and passion.

But now the time is knocking my door

To understand whats life worth living for.

My childhood, you caressed, O mother

I swear your old age I will make better

As I move to new age and new place

Lots of habits I need to replace

So that every time I have a fall 

Again I will make myself stand tall

Its time to move and breathe life into my self

And crush all virgin insecurities that dwell

Once I get my wheels back on road

Hard work will be the single chore

And then the sweat oozing out of my forehead

Will make me proud and worthy of the earned bread.