The Stubborn Door

If the door was not a tiny crack

There would have been freedom

And the room did not stare gloomily

At the incompetence of identifying the sentiments

The ethos of going against everything

Just for the adamant desire of ransacking

It will be pretentious to escape

Through that crack, with such vainness

One is stuck in that rut

Strutting around with arrogance

Windows are nebulous too

Contentment in living with daily trepidation

Stuck here, and there, outside in perceptions

Jealous of this cage?

It’s the frenzy to be in that zone

Unlikely, the night will be lenient

For escaping through the crack

Fraught with risks of being typecast

Play the same role for survival

With a mask chosen by perceptions


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