You are the name I write at the back of my pages
You are my password with underscores and hashes
You are my unwritten stories and rhyme
You are the thoughts while I kill the time.
You are the faces that I make in a mirror
You are the voice which I try to mock other
You are the kick to start my motorbike
You are the secret from world I want to hide.
You are my broken heart with stitches
You are the wound which always itches
You are the peak densely shrouded in mist
You are the list that I don’t want in my list.
Are you truth or a hoax?
Or are you just my Paradox?