You can lie to me,
I actually look forward to your lies...

He used to sit there,
in an awkward cube of glass...

In a town where no one goes,
In a yard where nothing grows...

You say this life is yours,
that you are its master and slave...

Here I sit,
on the edge of the Earth...

Every morning,
just before dawn...

So this is how I end,
burning with a hectic glow...

A lot, I have written for you,
but these lines would be the last few...

Guys this was the reply I got for my poem the...
I am the religion you abide...

I will not kill myself,
I said to the little boy...

I looked up
and saw...

It was never for the attention,
or the love I got...