THE PARADOX OF BEING
How can someone be everything; and nothing,
In fleet of a second?
How can I feel startled and repelled,
By something that lies ahead?
How can I be the world, nevertheless in the world,
For someone who shifts the words?
Words that are bound to the context,
How come made me a bondservant index?
Truth is a double-edged sword; cuts both ways,
Either it hurts or delays, never heals nor relieves the pain.
Pain that erupts but remains intact,
Pain that knocks down, but one still stands.
How can it be the end,
For what was once the end?
Makes me wanna say,
Wasn't it the end ?
I was a fool, you were not,
You made me a fool—oh, how I forgot.
It said, "What will I get if I put the blame?"
It never thought how it felt to take the pain.
It's easy as it seems,
Not as easy as it sees.
Easy for the disease,
Not for the one in dis-ease.
How can someone be insane and in-sane?
I look at myself, all in vain.
What chokes a person?
Is it what steals the breath or the will to breathe?
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