A thought about myself

Autobiography of a mad person

Dwell in palaces, empty the malls
They have servants, to attend their calls
They get what they demand… still not satisfied;
And those people say that I’m a mad

Nights in five stars, and mood altering drugs
They sleep enveloped in most sexy arms
… Still not quenched, in that heavenly bed
They see nightmares; they have many unknown fears.
They cry though they have shoulders to cry
And they shake though they have supporting hands;
They live life like that of a dream…
But with a mind that has no songs but a silent scream.
They cheat, they fraud; to pull others down
They try hard… still not satisfied
And those people say that I’m a mad

I may be a poor, I may look like a beggar
Instead of setting down, I may prefer to wander.
And sleep by the roads, I may not have proper clothes…
I flow rivers of sweat, to make both ends meet
And I see dreams those are very sweet.
I lack supporters, so I talk with my heartbeats
With lives of others, I never make comparisons.
Tell me, is this so bad
That those people call me a mad?

I sing away tragedies, and smile to the pains
I help others though I get no gains…
It’s not like that I don’t understand,
…That those help seekers also call me a mad.
But with this life I’m much satisfied
… And have a happy, unadulterated mind
Yes! I feel glad that I’m a mad
And throughout my life, I want to remain a mad!!!