We Are Lovers

Evangelists and egomaniacs
Aren’t we all synonymous?
Bringing devils to Christ, mere reason being:
we want our names next to our achievements on a plaque in
Our Unholy Kingdoms

I hate writing poetry
Eyes squinting at small text
Typing keys with no sound.

Man isn’t driven anymore by
Hunger and ambitions
Rather we chase fame and gold chains
Too heavy for our infant necks
To do things not because we love doing them
But to do things because we know others will love us for them

Me me
Me me me me
You are a pericope
In my autobiography
And I am not the author.

Evangelists and egomaniacs
Why can’t we love the sea
Behind our own reflections?


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