Who am I ?

I come from a line of Dravidians and Aryans

Across the universe low-key like martians

from a place once called the garden city

Where grass was brown and girls were pretty

A place far gone

neon lights on

We grew up with one another

but We got too big for each other

Who am I

So I ran away guns blazing

hunting down something amazing

but town after town

It was never found

Who am I

I come from books and stories

nooks and crannies

Cooks and lorrys

and looks from granny

Never knowing or understanding,

that my demands were too demanding

and never fully comprehending

That my beginnings had their endings

Who am I

I’m that walking talking contradiction

A make believe person reading non-fiction

a lazy imagination running wild

an immature old soul, a man-child

A poor student, a quick study, a true learner

Never prudent and an avid burner

of trees and bridges

Who am I

I’m wet cement

work in progress

dodger’s lament

but I digress

I’m the one who still dreams of glory

The only one who can write my story

and from the time that I was christened

When one voice spoke, I always listened

Always trusted my own gut

Even when I was stuck in a rut

and through the pouring rain

Even though I got drenched again

and again

Soaked head to toe and laughed at by fellas

I laughed back at their umbrellas

see, myself, I never hide, 

you can call it foolish pride

but I wait for that feeling


because like I’ve felt joy and pain

I want to feel the sun and rain

Who I am

I’m still finding out


Aren’t you?

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