A True Lie

 The sunlit fields,

 The happiness it yields,

 The shadows left at ease,

 And the souls rest in peace.

 How did it strike?

 The mighty cajole of aquiesce,

 With the creases and folds of life,

 Your thinking power will cease.

 The melancholies of life are abstruse,

 But that's what they say;

 "Afterwards, your bemoaning is of no use".

 We have to stay joyous,

 For the world to know;

 We have to stay bias,

 Or in front of them, we have to bow;

 

 We have to stay beautiful,

 For the world to show,

 But the myth is- "yeah! Play the fool,

and you'll always glow"

"The world is not a wish-granting factory",

 Or I thought so;

 There are halcyon days

 And horrible nights,

 But these, in your life,

 Have become an "ago".

 They demand,

 We fulfill;

 We reprimand,

 Then that's against their will.

 This is nature;

 The fields and the happiness it yields;

 And yeah!

 Those deals,

 Of bargaining happiness,

 And discreet glamour;

 You're no one unless,

 You believe in one's pride and valour!