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.


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