Our life begins,
Without our choice,
And yet we have so much,
Our own thoughts and voice.
Oh how much i think
To give matter to my voice!
If it is all predecided
Do i really have a choice?
We live our lives,
Monotonous in tone,
Unless we question,
And think on our own.
I want to add some colors,
On heart's canvas of grey
and if you ask about feelings
I have so many things to say...
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