While I had myriad of questions,

She had a simple answer,

A very simple question,

With no answer to tell,

I honked high, high enough to bleed ears,

But she stood there, 

Unflinched, undear,

My love, affection, care,

My anger, rage, jealousy,

All crystal clear, all obvious,

Whoever saw me that way, sympathized,

But she kept blind folded, unrealized,

For my craving to meet her,

I was called a psycho,

And my every yearning to her bounced back,

Making me hear its echo,

It all was either a mistake or a joke,

Whatever it was, it made me broke.

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