They say you've grown a man
They say you should do this & that
They say I am not young
To bear my faults and rogues.
I deemed calmly-why?
If a grown man I am
The feelings are there exactly same
Why feels I am-the tense
In passion for a love for
The thirteen as when I, nineteen;
Say I, why, then the same shy?
Same flattering & twittering
Of love saying utters in my
Lips in thy presence or her, O luv;
Why are these then there?
Why I am, a grown up man;
Not bear faults the same as of then
Why O man-a heart, full of love
For a young girl of thirteen,
Never grown as these are, of Earth.
Why all those passion, anguish
And fire still on this poor heart?
Why, the same intense
To do wrong once again
To fall in a danger-Why?
Say me O man, why the
Childish play of words or dreams
Innocent ever urges----?
Peeps the heart as well:
Why all those aspires of
--Dear, O my dear,
Why the burning face
Young, comes to wake me
At night? Why the coquettish
Of her or theirs charms---
Hug me ever, my innocent heart.
Why that same insufferable
Pain in love as of young's
In this age of thirty's?
You can't, I dare say, O man
You have grown with arts, I none
I am, as I was
Full of faults & pleasures;
Out of any artificial, true to heart;
Listen O dear-
My love for thy heart;
Not artificial, full of pleasures.
But beware the same,
O dear, from these old guys
Full of hearts and treasures, disguise;
Beware of them, O dear,
Even of me of thirty's---
A man often forced to be ready
Do wrongs, do rogues, do frauds,
To bleed the softest hearts on this earth,
Full of pleasures, beauties and loves.
Beware of these, O girl:
The earth is full of artificial arts, where
So simple are not actually exists;
Out dark-love, cheat, prudery and rogues;
O man, this earth full of arts & frauds.
So why, Forgive;
Forgive me my heart, you see,
The earth, the love is not for me.
9.45 p.m. 01st oct.2012, during a train journey.