Success

Love 7

We are filling out time
As we become space-degreed,
A pressed navigation button
Taking you from lesser to greater,
When you finally look,
At your beautiful convenient apartment
In the middle of Colombo,
When you start to realize, that in climbing the slope
That determines success or failure,
You’ve become a success, to millions of eyes that gaze
At you with awe and still you see the
Word “failure” written on
Your half-complete autobiography
Which like a mirror, surfaces
Dark circles around your supposed halo
And the truth is, like a feeble bone,
That will break into two, to the tiniest thrush
Of your mental forces. You are only
An imposter to most people,
A happy-monger, whose heart is just
A scrapyard of used fittings.
Which were at one point long ago,
Your most-primal interfaces.

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