ME and my heartboth speak
listen the least
I ask say one by one
they play a truant
making me crazy
either way
the shadows I love fast
it becomes a point of dispute
with all
I serve and strive
to thread bare
but find the tangles
at every knot
is that its crazy
all the way
or me a too docile
at the moments
with me
I search my core
is there a learnt quotient
left to negotiate
or adopt
the moments of mine
the conflict of my own
making or otherwise
it makes a point
at the stroke
clock chooses to be its own
I see
and search hard
probably the misty fog spells
lift me to the exosphere
I find the cool too penetrating to my heart
but
the fights of the twins
it also reaches
I do ask
whether if at all
a height
it does afford
to resolve
that I strive hard
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