Felt

When your manifestos are overturned

You will be left without any agendas,

You feel you have been tricked and robbed

But most importantly you believe as if

Now you have nothing.

Time starts squeezing your pain.

Smiles on others lip looks

Like the tight slap on your face.

Every accolades turn into the sheaths

Around the skeletons of the closets.

Sympathies become new problematic pities

Meanwhile the only judgy eyes are the one, you possess.   

You will be out of routine.

Losing that purpose will be a gain

However it distributes the colour of sins in the veins.

You will always be in search of wrongness

That appears the only right thing to you.