The cry of the baby is described to innocence,
that of a man sounds as a weakness
Insecurities to unveil is always a hard part,
To succeed in same would definitely be
a new art .
Despondence has become a lone friend
To turn him into foe , mite give me a new
Heart has grown cruel , I can’t feel any pain
Neither in sickness nor in happiness
Numbness gone wrong
I don’t know where I belong .