This stupid mind fails not in making promises,
And setting deadlines, which are rarely met,
It makes me fly, and kiss the moon,
It makes me dream of undreamt,
Yet it has no guts to make my limbs move,
The guts to convert it into reality.

So sick I am of the unfulfilled promises it makes,
So tired I am of the endless promises I have to attend to,
Why can’t this mind make it happen?
Why is it not ashamed of cheating upon itself,
It pours upon me rays of hope,
Yet again, so boldly puts thicket of clouds over my head.

It pushes me so close to the glory,
But when I touch upon the edges,
And when I am ready to conquer the world,
Yet it want to pull my legs without a bit of hesitation,
So is nature of my mind, stupid awkward mind,
I remain a prisoner of my mind.

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