I keep telling myself stories all day.
Yes, an anthology keeps running in my mind
About “What is he looking at?” or about “Is he blind?”
Sometimes, I have an anthology that says
“I’m good at nothing.”, “Everyone knows it, no one just says.”
All these stories that I keep telling myself are quite natural
Though they seem unknown and unnatural.
They are played all the time in my head
It’s just that, they remain because they’re meant to be unsaid.
These are the stories that take place because
I don’t want some things to happen in certain ways, a simple cause.
I keep track of little things and how I want them to be
I worry if they happen in any different way than they apparently had to be.
These create frustration and anger and emotions I can’t deal with
Sometimes more than a story, I narrate to myself not so real a myth.
And then I realise whether these stories really help me
But in real they’re actually of no good to me.
But they’ve sure made me understand
That instead of all the sorrows I picture, I can also picture happiness and take stand.
I can tell myself better stories that would keep me happy
Stories that don’t make me sad or distressed or unhappy.
Stories that are of some help to me
That make me a better and a peaceful me.