Life is such an ironical place to be or maybe we are. We take for granted, the largest of pleasures we already have and long to appreciate something that we don’t.


Maybe because it’s very late for me to understand

That I’ve started living life on my hand.

From my morning coffee cup to my night blanket

Life has become quite easy, as easy as wearing a jacket.

You don’t have to button it up, a zip has made all the effort go

No rock-climbing scars in life, because we all like a plateau.

Β Yes, of course, less energy needed, even lesser time

No words, no promises, tasks get done even without aΒ mime.

But someone who does them for us is always taken for granted

We don’t even demand, we order, we’re blunt and candid.

Disrespectful to the one who deserves most of our gratitude

The one who’s rare to receive our care, receives much more than attitude.

Lost, they find themselves to be

They lose themselves for us maybe.

But their affection for us goes to vain

We hurt them, we cause the pain.

They might never walk away and stay as long as they can

Because we are their first priority, and them from our lives we ban.

We give love and security to those who already have much

But we feel uncomfortable for the ones who need most as such.

I looked around today to see if I’ve ever given back

Given back a piece of my heart too, to the one who has always supported me back.

“I’ll get my steaming cup of coffee” tomorrow morning is well assumed

I take my pleasures for granted, even without giving anything in return is well presumed.



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