Everybody's Perfect Story

By Partha Pratim Boruah

Running from my own shadow,

Crying out loud.

Chasing by my own self,

Trapped in a crowd.

This is everybody's perfect story,

But not mine.

I too can read and write,

Speak and raise.

Why can't be like others,

To be great and praised.

Like the flower that blooms,

To be proud and gazed.

I adore the others,

I acquire the talents.

But what does it matter,

If I myself am not balanced.

 Why do I fail,

And why don't they?

Like the rain that fall,

With the harshness call.

Why I am not the predator,

And they are the prey?

As everybody have their perfect story,

But not mine.

By Partha Pratim Boruah