I am not clever,
never was, never would be,
When I traded the bylanes for flyovers,
I tried hard to be one,
to be accepted,
So that my words weigh in,
makes one believe me,
find meaning in my truth.
I've spent a decade in wilderness,
wild, hungry and sleepless in this concrete city,
Now I am just tired of this perceptions business
The only thing I can manage with much difficulty
is an appealing half-baked smile,
No, I don't even wait anymore
for my mime to be deciphered.
Because they are hollow,
there is no meaning in them.
I am just happy being a mute,
Too happy to be a ghost in the corridor.