At times you don’t have a clue,
A clue about how you are holding up,
Perhaps the inside you know that you can do it,
But the body is not ready to cope up.
For the sake of perfections,
You can’t rule out the value of imperfections.
Life is a series of phases,
Each phase unpredictably shaping you!
i could not see the real me
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I didn’t get you! What exactly you are trying to convey here?
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that like Mary, i am often hiding.
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Okay
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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