There is clutter, there is chaos,
Cords entangled to impossible freedom.
There is perpetual frown on our foreheads,
And our palms are sweaty forever.
We blink too many times than normal,
And we are loud even in silence.
There is hurry, which rarely means we are punctual.
There’s constant urgency in our desires and cut throat cut-offs.
There is absence of ethics or etiquette,
There are deaf ears, blind eyes and cold shoulders.
We are feverish and violent, sceptical and judgmental.
There are graves in our living rooms and nooses crisp with young blood all over.
But we can explain this insanity,
This aura around our twisted faces.
We fight for our clan like ferocious lions,
We protect our integrity like soldiers.
We know ego is a whore and we do not keep account of our pasts.
We are arrogant but not proud.
Call us misunderstood Robin Hoods
Stitching capes from fragile shrouds!
