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.


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