Everything I do is wrong,
At the end of the day I find myself engulfing in ocean of mistakes
Memory haunts me all the time
Remorseful soul wants some respite.
Criticism after criticism defeats my existence
I encounter block after blocks
Mottled by stockpile of pristine wounds
I can’t prove my doubter’s wrong.
When beloved people make my life messy
Recovery is not so easy
Can’t get opportunity to solve the maze
In front of me is haze and haze.
Mourning is a luxury, I can’t afford it
Everybody wants me to stand still in quagmire
When life is full of duties and responsibilities
I squirrel my grieves away for some leisure.