Thousands are out there with hundreds of hopes.
Some sheding tears, some imagining your smile.
They always wait for that one ‘Hi’.
And your Last Seen is their Goodnight.
Frankly speaking that nobody is frank.
Your liking becomes their personality and style.
You are their ambition, their oxygen
Their night and day,
Their reason for fights,
Their only subject without a guide.
You are the topic they may even edit Wikipedia and write.
You’re their truth and the cause of their foolish lies.
Their stomach fills when roti enters your foodpipe.
They believe in you and live by you.
This poem confuses you; No rhyme just like between them and you.
Milady, still they love you.