The Way I Think
By Srija Shwetangi
Scary tendency to exaggerate,
Chocks the door of my throat.
Thoughts that render my mind,
Snatches my freedom from behind.
Fluctuation of mind is petrified,
Destructive side goes on the verge.
No control on contemplation,
Wanderers never find isolation.
This gloomy ugly side of brain,
Makes me hate my pessimism.
I fear because of mind's statics,
The way I think is called creepy.
The ugliest humans can be found,
When their thoughts open mouth.
Pretenders call my notion fake,
Survivors know the truth in vain.
By Srija Shwetangi

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