Wednesday, May 2, 2012

One morning...



I kept on looking into a frame of glass
Feeling very strange to see a man just like myself
Rubbing his cheeks with fingers on black grass
Watching him closely to find he had lost himself

I heard my name being called out loud
Urging me to make it real quick
Soon I realized I was in a misty cloud
Waking up myself to the noisy kick

I hate to see it fully grown
As it makes me look hopeless
Hate to spend time to cut them down
Wondering why can't I grow ageless

Now there is no escape
I've to give my face a good shape
Without getting it rightly shaved
People think I am severely enslaved