Surrender to the cynicism of the mind
A game of peek-a -boo played by memory
Taking us back to a place like a torn kite
Where we fly with the breeze and clouds are thundering
I store my thoughts and seal them in an empty closet
Cannot show you the words that are not spoken
The words are liar and only deeds are honest
Conferring to tides night is a little more darken
The wheels spurn and something new I become
Breaking the conventions of social being
Want to break the solitary confinement of me
Sceptic maybe I am yet I believe
That world would change if I stop with this deceit
An Indian Princess 