The curse of man
The genius does something retarded
And is impressed at his creativity
Like he was bored with being smart every time
And is happy with a new experience
The two lovers feel they are stronger
After fighting and making up
When they promise to never break up
With the inevitability they will sooner or later
The father looks at son
And is awestruck at how protective he feels
Feeling the same awesome way
When he spanks the lad impatiently
The psychologist who visits another psychologist
And sees herself being analysed by the other
Saying things she knows she could have expressed herself
Without being charged per unit time
Oh! What do we really know about even ourselves
The one minute pontificating about power, love and intellect
The next minute acting like spineless, selfish halfwits
Yet feeling grandiose again before the day is over
P.S.: And this bored lazy writer
Reels simple ideas recklessly out
Yet knowing the distinct appeal
Of sensibly organized poetry form
Writing like nothing in his piece
Even remotely refers to his humanity
Claiming the power of the artist is purely imaginative
Yet knowing the power of art is in soul-ish expression
I Feel Shadows 