In the world of friendly strangers...

Often we are victim to ignorant dangers...

We sulk back and wonder what next,

Stuck between apprehensions and moment changers...

Alas! I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

Faces when I see, and those eyes that wait...

I ask myself if they speak or interrogate...

My state of mind puts a word of caution;

In my ears unknown voices reverberate...

Still I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

This world isn't a white wash on the walls...

It is vivid, different people, differently enthralls...

My perceptions are vague and so are my thoughts;

Introspection and a change of mind it calls...

Oh! I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

The rush of sound and the walls leap into dark...

Music rhythmic and some souls left a mark...

Light attributes pushing the dark themes to vanish,

This world isn't stranger but an artistic park...

Yet I am a hostage to my inertia.

 

I wait to free myself from my own imposition...

Feel acquainted, dissolved and an acclimatisation...

Among the friendly stranger world,

That's oriented, and grounded at its position.

I wait to break the shackles of my inertia.