Psyche

 

Different strokes for different folks

The psyche is a hard taskmaster

Extracting a toll in the form of

Flattery for one

Money for the other

Friendship for another

And love for the next one

The currency is different

But the inherent  propping

Perquisite  is the same

To cater  to it and   to pamper it

We put on different masks

Of  half pseudo pain,

Of  feeling pleasured,

Of feeling wanted & wanting

Yet a grain of truth runs

Through this smokescreen

Of  half-baked schemes

Put on show to garner

Sympathy and provide

A boost to our psyches

But all this to what end?

Are we so weak that

We cannot pinpoint our

Foibles and frailties and

Confront them for what they are

A mere sign of our weakness

Which can be gradually

Weeded out and burnt

And a glowing spirit

Would rise from the

Smoldering red-hot ashes

Like a phoenix  

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