Entropy.

All beings walking around as mere reflections,

Blatantly crisp and clear images, but not quite whole

Standing concave and convex-like,just reflecting, not owning any of their actions

Bent inwards and flexed outwards, with invisible abnormalities of the soul

Each heartbeat plainly mimicking the sound of existence

Starkly sonorous and loud but quite appallingly empty

Programming life’s tunes into inaudible songs of deathly silence

And proclaiming it as music of spirituality, Ah! The idealists’ repartee

Every feeling flowing as a perfect imitation

Of superlative craft but not quite pure, like a rolled gold trinket

Unashamedly faking every sentiment, Blasphemous pretension!!

1 carat of genuinity but proudly masquerading as a 22 carat

Forging every aspect of being a human

Forging any and every feeling that can ever be felt

Consciously, emotionally becoming an orphan—

in the name of freedom but in fact forging everything that we've left.

Reached a point, in belief, a very cynical point-

Where anything beautiful must have plastic in it

Where any love story must have a break point

Where anything divine has a nasty secret behind it

A point of Human Entropy.