And on some days, I try to act,

the normally weird me.

a little more normal than

I just sit back 

on the worn-out grasses.

In the open air.

Empty. Aim-lessly.

I watch people passin’ by,

the boarded passengers 

without any real destinations

but with one absolute end-

b’ful or seriously awful.

Believe, but One.

I laugh upon the stupidity

I do. Every now and then

when I try to please people

or make them ‘them’.

I laugh on the really lame jokes

‘made on me’.

Some by them and  

most by the really lame me.

And as I laugh,

the eyes over flows and

the dimple gets filled.

Abandoned heart aches,

emotion gets killed.

And on somedays

I be me. 

Who got lost

in comforting thee.

Like the worn out grasses,

in the the open air.

Empty. Empty. Empty.