I’ve always lived my life thinking about them.
Who are these people I always think about?
Who are these who stay in my mind throughout?
Do they matter to me or do I mean something to them?
Are they someone precious? Are they my life’s gem?
The answer to all these questions is a clear no
I don’t know them, they don’t know me. Yet my life to them I owe.
I think about them even before I think about myself
I think of what they will think, I do it myself.
What they think is their choice and opinion
But I choose my paths according to their opinion.
The clothes I wear, the food I eat
The words I speak, the people I meet.
Every nail I bite depends on their going to be reaction
Every little step I take depends on their action.
Why am I so insecure? Why do I think about them?
Shouldn’t I think about me instead and this habit I should condemn?
People will always have something to think and something to say
But with this fear in my heart how will I stay?
If I think for them, what will they do
If I work like them, I’ll be alike too.
What people think should not be our choice
What we think should be our voice.