We’ve sold ourselves
To the people around
Some have limited to the bodies
N some have sold their souls
How valuable is it to be oneself, anymore
Wrapped-up in a cocoon of forgery
Does one really care of the original being
Its just show biz
Many have already died
But the sensation of death is yet to be realized
How does it feel
To be a part of this numbness
Not to be the real me
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time n again the same wounds resurface some sounds which had clung on to my ears when i was there some moments which i forgot by the roadsid...
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just when i found myself free you bounded me in chains mysteriously when i tried to run out you carved me on the wall to shout what is it th...
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There are millions of sides to everyone of us. Everyone is somewhere or the other trying to relate, what we actually are. But we are not wha...
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