You have changed me. To be precise, your image did.
But I’m not so far gone to hide from the glaring truth.
It pains me to acknowledge the unoriginal twist –
But you don’t have the slightest idea that I even exist.
However, I’m grateful for the twisted joke crafted above.
I’m like millions now; not precisely but in an essence a fan-girl.
I have wandered closer to the marginal crowds
I dream of something that crosses all bounds.
I feel ashamed. My mind and my pride recoils at a mere thought,
But my soul’s longing prevails, supported by my foolish heart.
And if I ever have to confess this weakness,
I’m sure I would die before I can even start.
It is a struggle. I’m crushed and inspired by the same idol,
And I wish I could shake the nets of adoration, but I’m not ready.
I’ve got used to the feelling of the subtle warmth,
That I’ve created myself from crippled self-worth.